


Hey Brother

by kuwlshadow, SPNxBookworm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Child Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4383257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuwlshadow/pseuds/kuwlshadow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPNxBookworm/pseuds/SPNxBookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mesmerizing night sky doesn't really depict the actual events that take place on land. That particular night was nothing but pain for Dean Winchester. He lost everything that night, his brother, his angel, everything. He chooses to ignore it however as he and Sam set off on a case when kids mysteriously start disappearing from their homes. Both brothers want to act as if everything is normal when in fact, tension is in the air and Dean tries to hide the pain and grief to make it easier for them. But trying to pretend that the problems don't exist won't make them go away, no matter how much you want them to. After everything that has happened, it's only a matter of time before Dean snaps and his world comes crumbling down at his feet. AU after 10.09 'The Things We Left Behind.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Acknowledgements:**
> 
> There are quite a number of people I'd like to thank:
> 
> My artist **kuwlshadow** for being the most amazing person and creating the most beautiful pieces of [ artwork ](http://kuwlshadow.livejournal.com/10004.html) in record time despite her shifts at the hospital. I am in so much awe and have so much respect for her. Like seriously, I can't stop smiling and staring at the amazing job she's done. Thanks for being such a doll and encouraging me every step of the way. And most importantly, thank you for choosing my fic. It was a pleasure working with you.
> 
> My beta [ zana_zira ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zana_Zira/pseuds/Zana_Zira) for helping make this fic even remotely readable. Thanks for listening to all my insecurities and enduring the numerous amount of emails I sent you in regards to this fic. Thanks for never giving up on me.
> 
> My two amazing girls [ winchesterpooja](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chronic_potterphile/pseuds/WinchesterPooja)/Pooja and [ iamremy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy)/Naila for being the biggest support system while writing this fic. Thank you girls for believing in me when I didn't. You are one of the biggest reasons I was even able to complete this fic. Naila, thank you for putting up with me and my late night ramblings and your help with all the Sam and Dean moments throughout the fic. Thank you for all your constructive criticism. Pooja, the Destiel in this fic would not be the way it is without you. Thank you for helping out and assisting with the brotherly moments as well. You girls have never left my side and I appreciate and respect you so much for that.
> 
> Finally, Wendy over at spn_j2_bigbang on Livejournal for being such a kind soul and hosting this every year! YOU ARE FREAKING AMAZING.
> 
>  **Author's Note:**  
>  Holy crap, that was a lot of people. But seriously, without them, this fic wouldn't be here. Just a mention that I've done my best to balance out the Destiel and the SamnDean. At the end of the day, although this fic contains Destiel, it mainly boils down to Sam and Dean and their relationship as brothers. Anyway, hope you enjoy! ^^

 

**NOW**

 

Daniel jerks awake with a start, gasping as though he’s run a mile. His eyes roam his surroundings and a slight sense of fear creeps in. He’d been in his room, staying up to study hard for a math quiz the next day. How did he end up here?

 

And where is _here_ exactly?

 

Daniel shakily gets to his feet, wrapping his arms around himself. The last thing he remembers is a damp, salty smell as he feels himself pass out. And the next thing he knows, he’s waking up in what seems to be a cave. The walls are dark and jutting out unevenly throughout. The floor feels rough and cold. And there’s just enough illumination for Daniel to make out his hand in front of his face.

 

Daniel curls his bare toes against the cold expanse of floor and squints, looking for a way out. His heart beats rapidly, as he tries not to cry. He’s scared and wants nothing more than to curl up in his mother’s arms. He pinches himself, wanting to wake up out of this nightmare.

 

He turns towards his left and spots light coming in from an opening a few hundred feet away, almost like a light at the end of a tunnel. Finding no other way to go, Daniel decides to follow the light, praying that it’s a way out.

 

He stumbles over the uneven surface a few times in the darkness, but keeps going. He shivers and wraps his arms tighter around himself. It’s cold, and he’s wearing nothing but his pajamas. The sound of his chattering teeth and fast breathing is amplified in the silence of the cave.

 

As he’s halfway towards the opening of the cave, the sound of water, probably waves crashing onto a shore, reaches his ears.

 

 _Water,_ he thinks, as he realizes how thirsty he feels.

 

His gait quickens and soon enough, he steps foot out of the cave. His feet now move across soft sand as his eyes are fixed only on the large mass of sea before him.

 

Harsh winds blows across the scene as the rough sea crashes toward random groups of rocks scattered across the shore.

 

Daniel stops for a few seconds to register his surroundings, as he absently wraps his arms even tighter around himself.

 

 _A beach **,**_ he thinks. All he can make out is sand that meets with the sea, which stretches out towards the horizon.

 

Parched, Daniel hurries towards the water, kneels against one of the groups of rocks for support and cups his hands to fill some water into them. Just as he’s about to raise his hands to drink the water, the corner of his eyes catch a white object near the rocks.    

 

A terrified scream leaves his throat as he stumbles backwards on all fours, eyes wide in fear as he stares at the skull before him.

 

Fear turns to curiosity which ends up getting the better of him. Though still shaken, Daniel shakily crawls back up to the skull. As he looks closer, his heart skips a beat. A whole pile of bones rests before the skull.

 

A broken sob leaves his mouth as he gets to his feet. He needs to get out of here. He needs to find his mother. He needs to get back home. This _needs_ to be a nightmare.

 

He turns around and his breath hitches as he startles seeing the creature standing before him. Dark mane, pale skin that turns into serpentine scales halfway. A menacing smile on its face.

 

“No!” he screams as the creature starts slithering towards him. 

 

“MOM!”

 

 

**~*~*~**

 

Dean doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he feels a cold hand on his shoulder and jumps awake, years of training making him instinctively get to his feet. He whips out a small dagger that he always has on him.

 

“Whoa,” says Sam, his hands raised in surrender. “Dude, it’s just me.”

 

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean grumbles as he runs a hand across his face, throwing the weapon onto the table. “I told you to stop doing that.”

 

He sits back down on his chair, bringing his laptop closer to him.

 

“Did you even sleep last night, Dean?” Sam asks.

 

“It’s none of your business, Sam,” Dean curtly replies.

 

“No, Dean. It is. None of this is helping you, man. You need to get some rest, not stay up all night doing research.”

 

Dean scoffs as he looks at Sam. “I don’t recall you listening to me when I’ve said the same thing to you.”

 

Sam opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Well, that’s – that’s different -”

 

Dean shakes his head. “No it’s not, Sam. Look, I tried sleeping, alright? I couldn’t so I figured I’d be productive. Only, I obviously ended up dozing off here. I’m fine, dude. Stop worrying.”

 

Dean looks back towards his laptop, determinedly ignoring Sam. The latter soundlessly leaves after a defeated sigh and Dean lets out a breath of relief.

 

Dean knows Sam means well. But after all that’s happened, Dean just can’t be the person Sam expects him to be. Dean can’t pretend that everything is normal. Dean can’t pretend that everything isn’t broken anymore.

 

He takes in a shaky breath as he pushes his computer away from himself.

 

“Screw this,” he mutters as he gets to his feet to head towards the kitchen, only one thought on his mind as he absently massages the Mark on his arm.

 

To get drunk as fuck and pass the hell out. Right now, that seems like the only option to numb the pain.

 

**~*~*~**

 

Sam walks into the library a while later to find Dean exactly where he left him, except for an addition to the scene. A bottle of whiskey and a half empty glass.

 

Sam sighs and decides not to call Dean out on it.

 

“Hey,” he says as he sits across from Dean.

 

Dean acknowledges his presence with a nod and a sip of his drink, his eyes fixed on the computer in front of him.

 

“I’m supposed to be the one slaving away at a computer, you know,” Sam voices, casual.

 

Dean chuckles. “Don’t worry. It isn’t research. I just thought we’d been on our asses doing nothing this past week so I found us a case.”

 

Sam raises his eyebrows in query. Dean had pretty much put them on every case he could find, almost every other week. They hadn’t really been sitting on their asses, just taking a few days off from hunting. Sam isn’t surprised that Dean wants to get back into it. But if this is what helps Dean, then so be it. He wouldn’t argue against his brother.

 

“So what did you find?” Sam asks, leaning forwards on the table.

 

Dean clears his throat. “Seven kids have gone missing in New Haven, Connecticut. I didn’t think much of it until I did some digging and found this,” Dean says as he turns the laptop around and points to the article currently open.

 

“All these kids were abducted from their own bedrooms. The windows were locked, doors closed and no sign of break-in either. Nothing at all. And the only thing the police found in each of these rooms was sea salt.”

 

Sam frowns as he pulls the laptop towards himself. “Sea salt?” he asks, skeptical.

 

Dean nods. “Dude, I’m as clueless as you are. But I think it’s worth checking out.”

 

“Are you sure?” Sam asks. “I mean, there are a lot more hunters than just us out there. And we just came back from a case a coupl ago. Don’t you think you should rest up?”

 

“So you’re willing to leave this case be and let more kids be kidnapped, if they’re not dead already?” Dean counters, stern. He knows that Sam’s concerned. But sitting on his ass all day doing nothing will not solve anything. The least he can do is try to help those who need it.

 

Sam groans inwardly. “Dean – “

 

“No, Sam. I know what you’re trying to do and I’m not buying it. I’m fine. And I’m leaving whether you’re coming with me or not.”

 

Saying so, Dean stomps out of the library making his way towards his room.

 

Sam sighs as he watches Dean go. He hadn’t meant to piss Dean off. Running a hand across his face, Sam gets to his feet and heads towards his own room.

 

**~*~*~**

 

Dean grins as he sees Sam walking towards the Impala. “Couldn’t ignore the case, could you?” he teases, trying to make up for his outburst back in the bunker. _Thanks for coming along with me._

 

Sam smirks. “Just shut up and get in the car,” he says as he opens the passenger side door. _Wouldn’t miss it._

 

A few hours later, Dean pulls up at The Red Rose Lodge. As he cuts the engine, Sam steps out and walks over to the trunk to get their stuff out while Dean jogs to the reception desk to get a room. A teenage boy, probably not older than fifteen, gives Dean a bored look as he walks in.

 

“Welcome to the most shitty ass motel in town. How may I help you?”

 

Dean looks amused as he replies, “Great way to gain customers, kiddo.”

 

The kid shrugs, but says nothing more. Dean stands awkwardly for a few minutes until the teen raises his eyebrows in question.

 

“Oh,” Dean snaps out if it. “Yeah. One room, please. Two single beds.”

 

Soon enough, Dean has the room keys in hand and is walking back over to Sam, who is waiting near the trunk of the Impala with their duffels near his feet.

 

Dean is still working to get the puzzled look off his face as he reaches Sam.

 

“What’s up?” Sam asks. “You look worried.”

 

“That kid in there is weird, man. He seems so out of it. And just as I was leaving he gave me this… look. And the only thing he said was, ‘There’s a reason this place is called The Red Rose Lodge.’ If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s possessed.”

 

Sam chuckles as he picks up both their duffels and follows Dean towards their motel room. “Dude, this place looks empty. I doubt a lot of people stop by here. That kid was just bored out of his mind. He was probably just pulling your leg.”

 

Dean grunts back in response, earning an eye roll from Sam. Dean quickly unlocks the door and enters, stopping abruptly and making Sam walk right into him.

 

“Dean, what the – “Sam starts but as soon as he lays eyes on the room, he understands.

 

“The kid was right,” Dean croaks.

 

The walls of the motel room are painted dark red, looking almost like blood. The floor is a dark green. The small table along with its two chairs have numerous red roses painted on them making them almost invisible as they blend in with the wall. The bedsheets have red roses printed on them, complete with the green stems and thorns. The pillow cases match with the bedsheet.

 

Dean looks up towards the ceiling and gasps audibly. The ceiling is covered with rose stems, intertwined with one another looking more like menacing vines than anything else.

 

“It’s not so bad,” Sam tries. “I mean, we’ve had worse. Like the Halloween themed one we’d been at where everything was just pumpkins and bats, or that one motel where it looked like someone had puked all over the room. This is manageable, right?”

 

Dean knows Sam is trying to make it easier for them and he appreciates it. But it’s not helping at all.

 

“Please not the bathroom,” Dean mutters under his breath as he opens the door and turns on the light. “Crap,” he says.

 

Sam follows. “Oh no,” he mutters, seeing the interior of the bathroom.

 

It seems to have followed the same theme of red walls and green floors.

 

The basin is shaped like a rose, again, painted red. The tap is green while its handles are pointed and almost conical, shaped like thorns. The shower curtains have roses printed on them in symmetrical rows and columns. The shower head is also shaped like a rose with its pipe leading up to the wall is painted a dark green, with small spikes in irregular intervals protruding out of the pipe to signify thorns.

 

“At least the toilet isn’t rose shaped,” Sam supplies, as he points to the green but otherwise normal toilet.

 

“Yeah, Sam. Thanks for the memo,” Dean grumbles as he shoves past his brother and gingerly sits on the bed closest to the door, looking highly out of his comfort zone.

 

Sam sighs as he deposits their duffels near each of their beds. “Dude, we can look for another motel if it’s bothering you so much.”

 

Dean immediately shakes his head in denial. “Nah,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. “Like you said, we’ve had worse. We’ll manage. It’s only for a few days, anyway.”

 

Dean glares when Sam purses his lips and looks away. Dean knows that his little brother is trying to hide a smile, or worse, a laugh. Sam will regret it if he decides to so much as even chuckle right now.

 

Sam clears his throat awkwardly gets up. “I’m going to go get some food then. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?”

 

Before Dean can say anything, Sam is out of the room. Dean decides to let it go for now. It’s been a while since things have been this… easy between them. And Dean knows better than to go and spoil it.

 

He turns on the T.V. and flips through the channels with a small smile on his face as he waits for Sam to arrive.

 

**~*~*~**

 

_3:07 am._

 

Dean glances at the clock and tosses yet again on his bed. Sam is on the other bed, his back facing Dean. _Probably awake,_ Dean suspects. He sighs as he shifts again so that he is lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

 

He knows what would help him right now, but it’s something he can’t have. And every time he thinks of it, the hole in his chest just keeps getting bigger. Dean wishes so much that he could have had one last chance to talk to him. To make amends. But it was too late. It’s always too late, with his fucked up Winchester luck.

 

“Cas,” Dean breathes as his thoughts drift.

 

**THEN**

 

“Dean, we’ve been sitting like this for thirty minutes now,” Charlie says as she sips her drink.

 

Dean nods and gulps. How the hell is he supposed to do this? He’s never even thought of this before, let alone confess it to someone. “Yeah. Just gimme a sec,” he says.

 

“You’re stalling,” Charlie remarks. “I’m not stupid. What’s on your mind? You look nervous. And as far as I’ve heard, Dean Winchester is never nervous.”

 

Dean chuckles, feeling a little bit better.

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean nods, looking up at Charlie. “Deep breath,” she says. He nods again as he takes a deep breath. “Okay. Now talk. Why did you call me here?” she asks as she gestures around the small bar they’re sat in, only a few minutes away from the bunker.  

 

Dean clears his throat. “Okay. All right. I just…wanted to ask something, if that’s okay.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

Dean downs his shot and resorts to fiddling with the glass as he asks, “Um, how… how did you know?”

 

“Know what?”

 

Dean takes another deep breath. He’s never felt this way. And if there’s one person that can help him figure this out, it’s Charlie. “H-How did you know that you liked… girls, and not guys?”

 

“You mean how did I figure out I was a lesbian?” Charlie asks.

 

“Yeah,” Dean replies.

 

“You know... people. Things. Why exactly?”

 

“Nothing. Just, uh, y’know... did you…?,” Dean makes a vague motion with his fingers. “Before…?”

 

“You mean did I ever have to do the dirty to actually find out?” Charlie counters.

 

Dean looks flustered and slightly mortified. “Uh… Maybe? Just help me out here, please? It’s just a... curious question.”

 

“Well,” Charlie purses her lips as she narrows her eyes at him. “My childhood wasn’t really that hot, as you know. I think I was probably fourteen or fifteen. I’d been staying at this home for a few weeks. This woman named Talia helped take in kids who’d lost their way. I didn’t give her all the details but I told her that my folks died in a car crash and I just wanted somewhere to stay for a while. She was nice. Took me in. She had a few other kids there. I was there for about four months until _she_ came. Gemma. She was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. I never really had any boyfriends or anything so I didn’t know what it was that I felt.

 

“Turns out, I had a crush on her. And.... I actually never told her. But a few months after that I kinda just bolted. Looked around for gay bars and shit and hung out with people. Had a steady relationship for a while with this girl named Trisha but it ended after a while. Just didn’t work out. I guess I’ve never had to really come out to people, y’know? I know of kids out there that are terrified of doing it because they might not be understood but I’ve never had to go through that.”

 

Charlie sighs and then squints and looks at Dean. “Why are you asking me this anyway? Something up?” she asks. Her eyes then widen as it hits her. “Dude. You’re totally falling for a guy, aren’t you?”

 

Dean immediately averts his eyes. “N-No, I’m just curious. That’s all,” Dean lies.

 

Charlie’s tone suddenly softens catching Dean off guard. “Dean, you know you can tell me anything right? You’re like a brother to me, and you and Sam are like family. Go ahead. What’s up? Really?”

 

Dean gulps nervously. “Yeah. I think I like someone. And.... well, yeah. Just don’t know how to figure this crap out,” he grumbles.

 

“It’s Cas, isn’t it?” Charlie asks.

 

“W-what? C-Cas? Seriously? Pfft,” Dean splutters, wondering how the sister he never had caught on so quickly.

 

Charlie gives him a look of disbelief. Dean chuckles. “That obvious?” he teases.

 

Charlie nods. “We’ve seen the way you two look at each other, and like, you two seem to have no concept of personal space either. It’s not too hard to work out,” she says, grinning.

 

 

“Wait,” Dean says. “We?”

 

“Oops, fucked up,” Charlie mutters under her breath. She then turns to Dean. “Um, yup. See, Sam kinda sees it too. He kinda owes me a hundred bucks since we’d bet on who would come out first. Sam had thought Cas would and well, he’s wrong.”

 

Dean looks flabbergasted. “You guys _bet_ on us?”

 

“You have no idea how obvious it is between you and Cas, Dean. Anyway, I got places to be, things to see, so anything else?” Charlie asks.

 

Dean hesitates. There’s a lot of things he wants to ask, but just doesn’t know how. Somehow, though, Charlie seems to understand.

 

She smiles gently as she says, “Just tell him, you idiot. Tell him you’re into him. Trust me. It’ll go well.”

 

“Thanks,” Dean says, sincere.

 

“Don’t mention it. Peace out, bitch,” she says as she gives a fleeting hug to Dean and leaves the bar.

 

**NOW**

 

Dean smiles to himself. It’s where everything had started. For once he’d actually felt like he could have this. A sense of longing and grief engulfs him knowing that it’s all gone now. And it’s his fault. He should never have let this happen.

 

He works to neutralize his emotion as he turns away from Sam and faces the opposite wall.

 

_3:40 am._

 

Dean falls into an uneasy sleep with an angel haunting his dreams. 


	2. Chapter 2

**NOW**

 

“Sleep well?” Sam asks from his perch on the rickety chair in their rose-themed room, his laptop resting on the table in front of him with a sealed cup of coffee waiting on the opposite end for Dean.

 

“Like a baby,” Dean grumbles as he swings his feet off the bed. He jumps slightly as the roses around the room assault his vision and glares as Sam chuckles. “Laugh one more time, and I will make sure you don’t talk for a week.”

 

Sam says nothing, an odd expression crossing his face. Dean dismisses it and heads towards the bathroom to freshen up, grabbing his clothes along the way. About thirty minutes later he exits in a cloud of steam, feeling a lot better.

 

He knows that Sam sees right through him but he’d rather not talk about his recent nightmare. Dean shudders as he remembers it with vivid clarity. 

 

In his dream, he’d been sleeping next to Cas in his bedroom in the bunker, both of them facing the opposite way. Dean had turned to lay a hand around Cas’s waist, only to feel warm wetness on his palm as he’d touched Cas’s chest. He’d withdrawn his hand to find blood coating his palm and slowly streaking down toward his forearm.

 

In alarm he’d turned Cas over to find blood pouring from the angel’s torso, soaking the bedsheets in red while Castiel’s dead, lifeless eyes hung open in endless fear; the last thing the angel must have felt when dying.

 

Dean remembers waking up in a cold sweat, heart beating a mile a minute.

 

“Dean, you okay?” Sam asks.

 

Dean snaps out of his reverie and realizes he’s somehow gravitated toward his bed and has apparently been standing in that spot for quite some time. He clears his throat, not meeting Sam’s eyes. “I’m fine.”

 

He’s glad when Sam doesn’t push. He quickly gets dressed and walks over to Sam, absently rubbing the spot where the Mark of Cain is seared into his arm.

 

“How about we head for breakfast and I tell you what I found so far?” Sam asks.

 

Dean seems taken aback by the sudden question, but he agrees. Stepping out might actually help. He grabs his cup of coffee, scoops up the keys to the Impala from the bedside table, grabs his jacket from his bed, and follows Sam out the door.

 

**~*~*~**

 

Sam watches with amusement as Dean takes an overly large bite of the burger he’s ordered and lets out a particularly dirty moan. “Dude, shut up.”

 

“Hy, dis ish hvven,” Dean struggles to speak around the massive portion of food in his mouth.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak alien,” Sam teases.

 

Dean rolls his eyes and concentrates on chewing. After a few seconds he gulps loudly and says, “I said that this masterpiece here is Heaven.”

 

It’s Sam’s turn to rolls his eyes as he smirks and shifts his gaze back to his laptop.

 

So what did you find, Geek Boy?”

 

Sam ignores the nickname and says, “Okay, so there isn’t much in the news articles. But I dug up the police reports and get this: they apparently were smart enough to process the sea salt and stuff. They ended up at this beach and found…” Sam hesitates. Cases with kids always got to them a lot more than the others. “They found seven sets of human skeletons, all in varying degrees of decomposition.” He shudders involuntarily. “Dude, it’s the kids. But… like… just their bones. What kind of monster can do this?” Sam asks, disgust and rage clear in his voice.

 

As he looks towards Dean, he knows instantly that his brother feels the same way.

 

Dean looks somber as he asks, “Anything else you could find?”

 

Sam licks his lips, stalling. He knows Dean will not like this news. “Another kid went missing. Yesterday. The mom filed a missing persons report.”

 

Dean’s expression turns steely and determined as he pushes away his half eaten burger. “Let’s go.”

 

**~*~*~**

 

Dean pulls up near the curb, in front of the house, then cuts the engine and gets out. Sam hands him his fake I.D. and he takes a deep breath before straightening his suit jacket and walking towards the front door, Sam right behind him.

 

Dean knocks on the door thrice. A few seconds pass and a dark-haired woman opens the door. She looks tired, her eyes red-rimmed but her expression composed and strong. Somehow Dean can tell she’s been through more than just losing her kid with the way she holds herself.

 

“May I help you?” she asks. “This isn’t really a good time.”

 

Dean mentally rolls his eyes when Sam starts speaking. Sam always seems to appeal more to the families than Dean does. He may tease Sam for it, but truthfully, Dean admires that part of his brother, of being able to connect with people on that level. Something that Dean is not always very good at.

 

“I’m sorry. We don’t wanna bother you. This is Agent Young, I’m Agent Johnson,” Sam says gently as he briefly flashes his fake badge along with Dean. “We just want to ask a few questions. I promise it won’t take long.”

 

“I already went through this with the local police department,” she says.

 

“We know. We just wanna be thorough. We’ll be out of your hair in no time, I assure you,” Sam says.

 

The woman hesitates and then nods and lets them in.

 

Soon, the three of them are sitting in the living room. Dean admires the woman, who introduced herself as Melanie. Usually, in any other case, the families affected by these fucked up creatures are sobbing or incoherent. But apart from the stray tear that Melanie wipes away now and then, her voice is steady.

 

“Daniel, he’s a good kid. A straight-A student. He was studying for a quiz the next day when he…” She trails away. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know how someone got into his room. He’s all I have. My husband died a few years ago in an accident. Drunk driver rammed into him in an intersection. It’s been a hard few years being a single mother. But Daniel has been nothing but an angel,” she says, wiping a tear away.

 

“We’ll do our best to find him,” Dean says.

 

“So what happened exactly?” Sam asks.

 

Melanie takes a steadying breath, “He was studying for a math quiz that night. I’m a nurse, and I had to fill in for my co-worker so I was tired from my shift. I told him to get to bed soon and fell asleep. The next morning, he wouldn’t open his door when I knocked. And it was locked from the inside. After a while, when he still wouldn’t open the door, I called a few neighbors and they helped break it open. Only, he wasn’t there. That’s pretty much it. Then I called the police and, I guess you know the rest.”

 

“Did you see or hear anything strange?” Dean asks.

 

Melanie frowns in confusion. “Strange?”

 

Sam nods. “Just, cold spots. Anything that seemed out of the ordinary.”

 

“How would that help you find my son?” Melanie questions.

 

“It’s just routine questions. We just want to make sure we explore every possibility, that’s all,” Dean replies.

 

Melanie shakes her head in denial before narrowing her eyes. “Daniel’s room smelled a bit weird for a while when we first got into it. Does that count?”

 

“What do you mean?” Sam prods.

 

“It smelt a lot like the sea. I don’t really know how to explain it. And the police said they’d found sea salt near Daniel’s desk chair,” Melanie explains.

 

“Do you mind if I check out his room?” Sam asks.

 

“No. Go ahead. Anything to help get my boy back,” she says.

 

Sam leaves the room and heads upstairs. Melanie and Dean sit for a few seconds in silence until Melanie breaks it. “Can I ask you something?” 

 

Dean nods, giving her all his attention.

 

“I heard that the police found... bones. And they suspect it could be the children that went missing before Daniel. Is it true?”

 

Dean suddenly feels uneasy. How is he supposed to tell her? He hates when kids are the ones targeted by these supernatural creatures. It just hits home seeing as he and Sam have been through enough shit in their own childhoods because of the things that went bump in the night. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m allowed to discuss case findings with anyone,” he finally says, not meeting Melanie’s eyes.

 

Melanie seems to understand by the way Dean acts. “Oh, God,” she whispers as her resolve breaks. Silent tears stream down her face as her eyes radiate pain and fear for her son.

 

Dean immediately gets up and walks over to her, kneeling in front of her. “I promise you I will do all I can to get your son back. We’ll get whoever is doing this.”

 

Melanie takes a few deep breaths trying to compose herself. “He’s all I have. Please get him back.” 

 

Before Dean can reply however, Sam walks into the room and nods his head ever so slightly towards the main door. Dean takes the cue to leave and settles with giving a quick nod and a look of promise to Melanie. He knows there are so many ways this thing can go sideways. And that Daniel is most probably injured if not dead already, judging by the skeletons that turned up. But he can’t just shatter this mother’s hope.

 

He and Sam thank Melanie for her hospitality and head towards the Impala as the single mother shuts the door after them.

 

“So?” Dean raises his eyebrows in question.

 

“Didn’t look like a ghost or anything. It’s probably something else,” Sam says.

 

“Nothing came up on the EMF?” Dean asks and then grits his teeth and pointedly decides to ignore the incredulous look Sam had thrown his way at Dean’s question.  

 

“I hate this,” Dean mutters.

 

“Come again?”

 

“She’s been through crap, Sam. I could see it in her eyes. And I just promised her I’d find her son. How the fuck am I supposed to keep that promise? For all I know, the kid could be dead,” Dean snaps. He then takes a steadying breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. This is just really fucked up.”

 

Sam gives a look of understanding as they both settle into the car. “I get it, man. It’s definitely fucked up. I don’t know what sort of monster could do this kinda thing.”

 

“We need to get this damn fugly. And fast. Before another kid disappears.”

 

“Yeah. How about I go check out the bodies – or what’s left of them anyway – and you ask around with the other families?” Sam suggests.

 

Dean nods, a look of determination on his face. He’s not going to let another kid die at the hands of this monster.

 

**~*~*~**

Dean is half asleep when Sam enters the motel room. He jerks awake after feeling a cold hand on his arm. “Dude, I told you to stop doing that,” Dean says, running a hand over his face.

 

Sam gives him an apologetic look. “Sorry. Anyway, did you find anything?” Sam asks as he sits down on the bed opposite Dean’s.

 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “So the stuff we know is that these kids seem to have been taken from completely locked or sealed rooms without a break-in. The sea salt in each of the rooms, everything. But almost all the families said what Melanie did. That the rooms also smelt like the sea for a while. That’s gotta be something right?”

 

Sam frowns. “Yeah. That can’t be a coincidence. It’s not much of a lead but we’ll check it out. Maybe this creature is related to the sea or something. Though I have no idea how it would make it to children’s rooms in the dead of night.”

 

“So what did you find?” Dean asks.

 

“It’s definitely the kids, man. It’s… It’s horrible. This monster left nothing. All the flesh seems to have been _eaten_ right up to the bone. I didn’t wanna stay in there any longer than I had to.”

 

A sense of dread and horror fills Dean. Not for himself, but for the kids. A very horrifying question pops into his mind. “Do you… do you think the kids were… alive? When this – this _thing_ started…eating them?” He feels like he already knows the answer. He suddenly feels a pit form at the bottom of his stomach.

 

Sam blanches. “I hope not. Crap, we need to end this, and quick. I’ll see what I can find. How about you get some rest?”

 

Dean starts to protest when Sam stops him. “Dude, you look tired. Get some shut eye. I’ll wake you up in like thirty minutes if you want. Trust me. We won’t let this thing get away,” Sam assures.

 

Knowing that this is not a battle he can win with Sam, he nods and lays down on the bed while Sam heads over to the table in their room, plops down soundlessly onto the chair and fires up the laptop.

 

Dean gives a look of disgust to the ceiling, hating the rose theme. He turns over so he’s facing Sam’s bed and is asleep within minutes.

 

**THEN**

Dean manages to convince Cas to rest a night before he drives him back to the Gas N’ Sip. He even tries to help Castiel with his bleeding hand, which he’d ended up inflicting while trying to save himself from Ephraim.  

 

He books them a room with two single beds in some run-down motel.  He’s kicking his shoes off while sitting on the bed nearest the door as he watches Cas, sitting on the other bed, try to tie a handkerchief one-handed around his palm to cover the wound. 

 

“Here, let me help,” Dean says. He walks over to his duffel and gets the first aid kit. He then kneels in front of Cas and silently tends to his wound.

 

The moment that Dean had arrived at the Gas N’ Sip, he’d realized he did feel something for this angel. The pain he’d felt at asking Cas to leave before, it had been different. Arriving at the gas station and seeing Castiel had made all the difference.

 

At that moment, Dean realized he was in love.

 

Dean finally ties a bandage around Cas’s palm and smiles up at him; his heart breaking seeing the pain in the former angel’s eyes.

 

He wants to make Castiel feel better. He wants to tell him that he’s there for him, that he has feelings for him. But something makes his throat constrict just seeing the anguish in those eyes.

 

Dean thinks this isn’t the right time.

 

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, getting to his feet and sitting on the corner of his own bed.

 

“I don’t know,” Castiel says after a pause. “All this is happening because of me, Dean. If I hadn’t lost my grace to Metatron none of this would be happening. I should never have trusted him in the first place.”

 

“This isn’t your fault, Cas,” Dean immediately responds, his heart breaking even more knowing the reason for Cas’s pain. “You didn’t know any of this would happen.”

 

“That doesn’t account for anything, Dean. I should have known. Every time, I’ve always tried to do what was right. And every time all that has ever happened is chaos and destruction,” Cas snaps, his hands balling into fists as he clutches the bedsheet.

 

Dean doesn’t know what to say. He knows exactly how Cas feels. If anyone has been through that, it’s him and Sam.  

 

“I’m tired. I’m going to sleep,” Cas finally says, indicating that the conversation is over.

 

As Castiel shifts up the bed and lays down to sleep, Dean blurts, “Hey, Cas?”

 

Castiel turns toward him, a questioning look on his face.

 

Dean hesitates. He needs Castiel to know that he’s not alone. That Dean is there for him, that he can count on him, and that he has someone who truly cares. But Dean can’t bring himself to do it, not after how he’d been forced to ask Castiel to leave the bunker, especially when the former angel had next to no knowledge on how it was to be human.

 

Dean will never forget the look of hurt in Castiel’s eyes when he’d asked him to leave.

 

“Just so you know, I don’t blame you for anything. I’ve screwed up too. We all have. It’s part of being human,” Dean says finally.

 

Dean’s heart lifts as Castiel gives a small smile. “Thank you, Dean.”

 

“Dean.”

 

“Dean.”

 

**NOW**

“Dean!” 

 

Dean wakes up with a jerk, yelping when the light from the lamp on the bedside table assaults his vision. He moves away from it, swinging his legs over on the opposite side of the bed.

 

He blinks and lets his vision adjust and then moves his gaze towards Sam, who is sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed with an amused expression on his face.

 

“What time is it?” Dean asks, his voice thick from sleep.

 

“Just a few minutes past six,” Sam replies.

 

“Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” Dean asks, annoyed. Sam had said he’d wake him up earlier and yet he’d now slept for almost two hours.

 

“You looked like you needed it.”

 

Dean nods absently, as he rubs at his eyes. He then looks back at Sam who still looks amused.

 

“What?” Dean asks. “Something on my face?” he asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He wouldn’t put it past Sam to prank him.

 

Sam chuckles. “No. You were smiling in your sleep. It was nice. And then you made it awkward when you started making some serious happy noises.”

 

Dean darts his eyes towards the floor, trying his best not to turn red. He mumbles something about needing to go to the bathroom and almost runs into the wall as he hurries into said bathroom.

 

He heaves a sigh of relief as he shuts and bolts the door behind him.

 

He feels a mixture of nostalgia and pain. Nostalgia for the old days when things used to be simple; when he finally had someone apart from Sam, someone he could call more than a friend and not have him die on him like every other person he’d made the mistake of falling in love with.

 

Pain. Pain for the reality that he did lose the person he loved, when all he’d wanted to do was protect him.

 

The little bit of joy and yet embarrassment he’d felt when Sam had teased him leaves him in a rush to be replaced by this gaping hole in his chest that he knows he can never fix.

 

Dean walks over to the sink to wash his face, knowing that he himself is to blame.

 

For everything that happened.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**NOW**

“Sam, will you just fucking tell me what you found?” Dean argues as Sam avoids looking at him. Dean had exited the bathroom to find his brother staring grimly at the laptop screen. When he had proceeded to ask what had happened, Sam had promptly shut the screen, flustered. And no amount of questioning made Sam reveal what he’d read or found.

 

“Sam, I swear to – “

 

“Fine,” Sam says, sighing. He opens the laptop screen and faces it towards Dean. “The police found another set of bones.”

 

The older Winchester’s hands ball up into fists as he stares angrily at the laptop. He’d promised Melanie he’d find her son. The bones the police had found were probably Daniel’s since he was the last kid that had been reported as missing. Dean turns away, his hands moving up to clutch at his hair.

 

Sam watches as Dean walks up to their bedside table and throws the lamp off of it. He then proceeds to punch the wall before finally sitting on his bed, his head in his hands.

 

Sam waits a few seconds before walking up to Dean and sitting on the opposite bed. “Hey, it’s not your fault,” he assures.

 

“I don’t care, Sam,” Dean says, looking at his brother and flexing the fingers of the hand he just used to punch the wall. “I promised Melanie I’d get her son back. The only one who that skeleton could belong to is Daniel. We should have gotten this bitch sooner.”

 

Sam gets to his feet and walks over to Dean’s duffel, pulls out the first aid box and sits back down in front of his brother so he can hand it to him. “We didn’t even know what this _bitch_ was, Dean. How were we supposed to save him?”

 

Dean nods, not saying anything, and Sam knows that he’s still blaming himself for it. He watches as Dean tends to his bruised hands. After a few moments of silence Sam finally says, “Listen, we may not have been able to save this kid, but I’ll be pissed if we let this thing get anyone else. I think I know what it is.”

 

Dean perks up, suddenly attentive. He’s eager to get this son of a bitch before any other kid has to die because of it. Setting aside the first aid box, he follows Sam to the laptop, pulling up the chair next to him.

 

“So get this,” Sam says. “First of all, the piles of bones were all found at the local beach. It’s only a few minutes from here.”

 

Dean nods, impatient. “Okay, got that. What do you know about the fugly?”

 

“This thing is targeting only kids, no one else. And only one thing fit the criteria.” Sam says. He opens up a page on the laptop and shifts it toward Dean.

 

“It’s Lamia.”

 

Dean looks dumbfounded. “Didn’t we hunt one of those a few years ago in Wisconsin or something? That weird thing with claws? It was eating hearts, I think, by literally tearing open chests. How the hell is this a lamia, Sam?”

 

“No, Dean. We’re dealing with _the_ Lamia,” Sam explains. “According to Greek mythology, Lamia was a beautiful queen of Libya who turned out to be a child-eating daemon. She’s supposed to be the daughter of the god Poseidon. Legend states that Zeus loved Lamia and when Zeus’s wife Hera heard about the affair, she stole Lamia’s children. This drove Lamia mad with grief, and Zeus transformed her into a monster so she could take revenge and devour children that were not her own.”

 

“Holy crap,” Dean says, shocked.

 

Sam nods, his expression grave, mouth forming a thin line. “It’s messed up, man. She’s supposed to be half serpent, half woman.”

 

“Anything on how to kill her?” Dean asks, scanning the page.

 

“As far as I can tell, stab her with a silver knife blessed by a priest,” Sam says.

 

“Well, then, we better get to work,” Dean says grimly. “We need to kill this thing before any more kids are taken. I am not letting another kid die on my watch.”

 

**~*~*~**

Dean’s coming back from the priest after getting the silver knife blessed when he stops near Melanie’s place, staring out at the house. He knows what it’s like to lose someone you love. He just can’t not go to her. He feels like he owes her an apology even though Sam’s told him multiple times that it wasn’t Dean’s fault.

 

But Dean can’t help feeling guilty. He’d promised a mother that he’d get her son back, and he failed. And to him, that was his fault.

 

He idles in his car for a few minutes before finally taking a deep breath and getting out.

 

He walks up to the house and hesitates a second before knocking on the door. He has no idea what to expect.

 

“Melanie?” he calls out when no one opens the door.

 

He knocks harder, wondering if she heard the news already. She could have, since it made it onto the news. Dean’s heart wrenches as he thinks of Melanie sitting in a corner of her house, grieving over the death of her only son. Yet again, he feels a ton of guilt settle onto his shoulders. A sense of unease creeps into him when even after several minutes of standing and knocking, no one opens the door.

 

“Damn it,” Dean mutters as he pulls out his lock picking kit.

 

He makes sure no one is watching him and in a few seconds, the door swings open. Dean rushes inside, instinct telling him something has gone horribly wrong.

 

“Melanie!” he calls out.

 

Nothing in the house seems to be out of place. He checks everywhere and his heart speeds up when he can’t find her. He decides to head upstairs.

 

He finds nothing in the bedroom and the fear that something may have happened to her eats at him. His instincts are almost always right and he just hopes and hopes that this time, they’re wrong. He _needs_ them to be wrong.

 

“Melanie!” he yells as he sprints down the hallway.

 

He reaches the bathroom at the end of the hallway and turns the knob, only to find it locked.

 

“No,” Dean whispers, scared of what he’ll find inside. Scratch that, he’s terrified.

 

He pulls out his gun just in case and takes a step back. He then raises his leg and forcefully kicks at the door, breaking it open.

 

His heart drops to his stomach, his hands immediately going limp at the sight before him.

 

“No,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

 

He doesn’t even know her, and yet Dean’s eyes brim with unshed tears as he kneels down beside Melanie’s lifeless body, an empty bottle of pills next to her.

 

A sudden numbness settles over Dean. His hands reach out of their own accord to somehow help her, though he knows it’s of no use.

 

Suddenly, Dean’s afraid to touch her. He doesn’t feel like he has the right to do it. Not when he failed her. Not when said failure led to this. She’s dead. She had nothing to live for. She’d told Dean that Daniel was all she’d had.

 

“NO!” Dean bellows, anguish lacing his tone as the numbness washes away filling Dean with nothing but agony.

 

This is his all his fault. His fucking fault. Dean gets to his feet, rage for the monster coursing through every vein. This fucker is not getting away. He’ll be damned if any more families are ruined because of it.

 

Dean takes deep breaths, trying to compose himself. “I’m so sorry,” Dean whispers as he looks at Melanie. He then hurries out of the house and towards his car.

 

He gets inside, hands shaking as he white-knuckles the steering wheel in an attempt to calm himself. It takes him five tries to finally get the keys in the ignition with his hands shaking so hard. He didn’t expect this. He’d thought Melanie was a strong woman. She had been.

 

It just goes to show that even the strongest people can break sometimes.

 

Dean drives in a trance, not able to accept what he just saw. He’s seen many families affected by the crap they hunt. But somehow, this just hit him harder. He can’t explain it.

 

As he nears the motel, Dean spots a phone booth near a diner and parks his car on the side. He leaves an anonymous call to the police so that someone can find Melanie and heads back towards the motel. It’s the least he can do for her now.

 

Dean realizes he must look different. As soon as he enters the motel room, Sam immediately gets to his feet and starts asking him what’s wrong.

 

Dean just shakes his head and rushes to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before violently throwing up the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl. His chest hurts and his throat burns as he coughs and sputters through the dry heaves.

 

Sam is there by his side, silently helping him through it.

 

A few minutes pass and Dean tiredly leans against the bathtub, and for once, not ashamed of the tears he knows are streaming down his face.

 

“Melanie’s dead,” he whispers.

 

“What?” Sam exclaims, a horrified look on his face.

 

“She killed herself,” Dean chokes. “There was an empty bottle of pills next to her. In her bathroom.”

 

Sam is silent, too shocked to speak.

 

“Could you give me a minute?” Dean asks.

 

“Dean – “

 

“Please, Sam,” Dean pleads.

 

Sam nods and claps a hand on Dean’s shoulder before leaving the bathroom and closing it behind him. Dean flushes the toilet and shakily heads to the sink. He rinses out his mouth and washes his face, trying to shake off the feeling of loss.

 

He’s lost everyone in his life. Even a person who he hadn’t known well ended up dying.

 

He thinks back to a time when things had been happier, even though he’d been pretty screwed up.

 

**THEN**

 

Memory after memory assaults Dean as he absently rubs the Mark on his arm. He’s horrified because he remembers everything he’s done. He’d acted a little tired and confused when Sam had led him into the room and asked him if he was okay.

 

To be honest, he just didn’t want to answer any questions or betray anything he felt. Because all he felt was pure hatred for himself. His demon-self had allowed Sam to be hurt by a man who blamed Dean for the death of his parents. Dean remembers the night clearly. His demon self hadn’t cared, but his human self does.

 

His black-eyed soul had fucking chased Sam around the bunker with a hammer. Dean shudders when he thinks of what could have happened if Castiel hadn’t showed up. He thinks of all the people he may or may not have hurt or worse because of the Mark. Dean wants nothing more than to cut his arm off if that would help get rid of the Mark.

 

He is sitting on the foot of his bed when Castiel enters the room, interrupting his train of thought. The hunter can’t meet the angel’s eyes. After all, said angel had to restrain him when he’d tried to smash his own brother’s head. Dean gulps, trying to quell the sudden nausea.

 

“Dean?” Cas calls out, his voice gentle.

 

Dean can’t help but look. It doesn’t seem like Castiel is angry with him. He looks up and all he can see is relief in the angel’s eyes.

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says.

 

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asks. He strides toward Dean and settles for sitting on the floor in front of him. Dean realizes how much he’s missed Cas. The small weird gestures he makes, the awkward way he acts sometimes, his complete straightforwardness and his adorable attempts at trying to be funny.

 

Dean now knows that his love for Castiel never died, even though he suppressed it after everything started to blow up in his face with Gadreel and whatnot. And then there was also the small incident where he turned into a demon and tried to kill everyone that pissed him off.

 

“I’m… okay,” Dean replies, though it sounds more like a question.

 

“You sure?” Cas asks.

 

Dean frowns. Why does Castiel care? Dean’s been away for almost four months doing all sorts of shit as a demon and yet Castiel is here talking to him as if nothing happened. Dean can’t help himself as all the insecurities in him come spilling out, “Why are you doing this, Cas? I’ve majorly screwed up these past few months. I’ve killed people. I nearly killed Sam and probably would have if you hadn’t stepped in. Why aren’t you locking me up? How are you so sure that I won’t become a demon again? That the cure actually worked?”

 

“Because you’re my family. And family does what’s best for each other. You may have done a lot of things, Dean, but _that_ thing, it wasn’t you. We wouldn’t gain anything if we locked you up. And you’re here, aren’t you? As far as I can see, you haven’t tried to kill me yet, so I’m willing to believe that the cure did work,” Castiel says, a sincere expression on his face.

 

Dean stares into piercing blue eyes, taken aback by the brutal honesty. 

 

He needs Cas to know. “Well. That’s…okay. Thanks, I guess,” Dean stammers, flustered.

 

Castiel smiles and Dean can’t help but feel like this is probably the right moment.

 

“Hey, um, if I tell you something, you won’t get freaked out, will you?” Dean asks.

 

The angel scrunches his forehead. “Does it have something to do with the Mark?”

 

“No. Nothing like that,” Dean replies. “It’s just…” Dean hesitates.

 

“Go on, I’m listening,” Castiel says.

 

Dean takes a deep breath. “I… I like you,” Dean says as he absently plays around with a loose thread on his jeans.

 

“Well, I like you too, Dean. You’re my friend,” Castiel responds.

 

Dean wants to bang his head against a wall. This is not how he planned things would turn out. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

 

The angel just gives him a confused look.

 

“Damn it,” Dean mutters as he bends down, clutches the collar of Castiel’s coat and pulls the angel higher, immediately locking lips with him.

 

Castiel seems to be frozen for a few seconds as Dean feels his unmoving lips against his. He feels Cas’s eyelashes against his cheek as the angel bats his eyelids.

 

Castiel pulls away and Dean’s heartbeat sky rockets. He’s probably screwed everything up. He should have made his intentions clear. He had no right to force himself upon Cas.

 

“Shit,” he says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – “

 

Castiel silences Dean by pulling Dean towards him and kissing him. He then moves his hands into Dean’s hair, lightly pulling at the strands as he deepens the kiss. Dean’s hands travel from Cas’s coat to cupping his face as the angel gets to his knees so he’s in level with Dean.

 

Finally, they break away, both slightly breathless.

 

“I see what you meant now,” Castiel says, smiling.

 

Dean chuckles. “So, you’re not freaked out?”

 

Castiel shakes his head. “Not really, though I am confused.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Well, from what I’ve learned being human and living around you and Sam, this seems to be a very inappropriate gesture among two friends, does it not?” Castiel asks, innocence in his tone.

 

“Well, maybe… y-y’know, you’d like to be… more than friends?” Dean stammers, flustered, his heart beating a mile a minute.

 

“Of course. Then our gestures will not be inappropriate either,” Castiel says, nodding seriously. “I would love to be more than friends.”

 

 

Dean smiles in amusement. Things may be a little screwed up right now, but damn it he wants this.

 

Dean feels as though a huge weight has lifted off of him. He grins as he hugs the angel. He’s never one for pouring his heart out, let alone hugging anyone. But he’s glad he can have this.

**NOW**

Dean’s heart aches. He’d give anything to have Castiel with him right now. He examines his face in the mirror to make sure he looks better than he did before. He then opens up the door and walks over to Sam who is sitting on the bed, a worried look on his face. 

 

“Are you okay, Dean?” Sam asks, immediately getting to his feet when his brother walks out.

 

Dean nods. “Yeah. Seeing her like that just kinda freaked me out. I’m fine.”

 

Sam narrows his eyes at Dean, but doesn’t say more. Dean is thankful. He grits his teeth and puts the guilt and pain he feels into that little box at the back of his mind, knowing that locking it away is the only way he’ll be able to get through this case. Once they find the Lamia, that’s when he’ll open it up and use all that pain and anger to kill the son of a bitch.

 

“So, what now?” Dean asks. “I got the silver knives. They’re in the trunk of the car.”

 

Sam puts a box of salt, lighter fluid and some rosemary into a duffel bag. “We go kill this thing. Lamias can be killed by covering them in salt and rosemary and then lighting them on fire. It’ll be safer to have a backup plan.”

 

Dean nods. “Good. Okay, let’s head out. The sooner this thing is dead, the happier I’ll be.” Dean starts walking towards the door.

 

“Hey, Dean. You are okay, aren’t you? I mean, you look pretty shaken up. I can do this by myself too. The Lamia won’t be able to – “

 

“Just get the stuff to the car, Sam. I’m fine. I don’t care what happened a month ago, okay? I’m coming with, and I’m definitely not letting you go alone,” Dean says sternly, firmly ending the argument. He doesn’t want to relive those past events in any shape or form.

 

Sam sighs as Dean stomps out of the motel room. He wishes his brother would let go of what happened. It wasn’t Dean’s fault. He picks up the duffel, takes a deep breath and heads out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**NOW**

 

Dean grumbles as they walk up the beach, looking for a potential place where the creature could be taking shelter. Dean and Sam have never been to a beach, not for enjoyment anyway. The older Winchester wants to smile and get lost in the beautiful sunset in front of him, but he’s concentrating on not face-planting and getting sand all over himself. Since he is carrying a slightly heavy duffle bag, it isn’t helping his balance. Besides, he prefers walking on solid ground, not terrain that moves beneath his feet.

 

Sam, on the other hand, has a peaceful expression on his face as he walks alongside Dean and admires the sunset and the pleasant waves up ahead of him.

 

The sky is painted in streaks of orange, yellow and pink. Birds flying in the distance look black against the colored backdrop. The waves of blue and white splash onto the shore, wiping away remnants of footprints or anything that had made its impression into the sand near the water. It’s serene and quiet and something Dean appreciates even as he works on keeping his head in the game.   
  
“I used to watch the sunset with Jess,” Sam says softly, breaking the silence between them.

 

Dean raises his brows in surprise. Sam rarely ever talks about Jessica. Dean knows very well that she meant everything to Sam and his blood still boils whenever he thinks about how fucked up his family had become because of Azazel. He is glad that it’s behind them, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a sore spot to think about.

 

“Maybe I can see her soon,” Sam says, more to himself than to Dean.

 

Dean hears it and stops in his tracks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, grim-faced.

 

Sam stops and realizes what he’s trying to imply. “Dean, I didn’t mean it like that. I – “

 

The other hunter holds up a hand. “You know what? Leave it. It’s my fault you’re even thinking about this anyway.”

 

“Dean – “

 

Dean starts walking ahead, shoving past Sam. He doesn’t want to think about it. Whatever happened, happened. Dean knows it is going to weigh on him for the rest of his life. But he is here to save a child. And he isn’t going to think about the past. He also isn’t going to let this kid end up like Daniel.

 

Every promise he keeps making to people, he somehow ends up breaking; every time he tried to keep them safe, he screws up horribly.

 

He can’t let that happen again. He can’t see another kid dead. He can’t let another family be torn apart.

 

He senses Sam following quietly and doesn’t make the effort to strike up any conversation.

 

They walk in silence for a while, towards the area where the police had found the bones of the children. When Dean had asked Sam how the bones had turned up in the first place, Sam had told him that a couple had been roaming around the beach and they happened to stumble upon them towards the west end.

 

Dean starts when Sam suddenly calls out, “There,” and points ahead.

 

The older Winchester follows the direction of Sam’s hand and he spots a cave, right towards the edge of the beach. It looks like the only place where the Lamia could possibly be hiding.

 

He pulls out his knife along with Sam and they jog towards the cave, instantly alert. They both stop near the opening, cautious. Dean hands their duffel to Sam who puts it aside next to himself.

 

Dean is about to walk in when Sam manhandles him and pulls him against the outside wall of the cave, away from the opening.

 

The younger man puts a finger to his lips, motioning his head towards the beach.

 

Dean’s mouth falls open as he carefully peers from the edge of the cave wall, spotting the creature. Her flaming red hair is billowing in the wind surrounding a pale face with startlingly large dark eyes. Her torso stops just after her navel to turn into scales, like a giant serpent, dark green in color and glistening against the warm glow of the sunset.

 

The Lamia stops on the other side of the cave, and just like the Winchesters, hides behind the outer wall.

 

“What is she doing?” Sam whispers. Dean shrugs, just as confused as his brother.

 

A few minutes pass and just when Dean begins to wonder if she’s playing them and knows that they’re there, a kid, looking no older than ten, stumbles out of the cave, shivering and sniffing. Sam and Dean tense, suddenly realizing the Lamia’s motive. She was waiting for the child to come out before eating him.

 

Dean moves to get the kid but Sam holds him back. He knows this is risky but the Lamia needs to come out in the open before they can save the kid.

 

Dean is frustrated but he understands Sam’s plan. He nods, ready to get the kid out of danger. He signals Sam to get the kid while he takes care of the monster, and his brother nods.

 

As the child moves towards the water, Dean spots the Lamia slithering out from behind the cave. Her lips are pulled into a horrifying smile as she watches the child hungrily.

 

“SAM, GO!” Dean yells as he runs towards the Lamia.

 

He charges, as the Lamia hisses in anger and slithers with alarming speed towards him. Her hands bear sharp nails, which Dean didn’t spot before. He realizes this a moment too late, as he’s only feet away from her when she suddenly stops and lashes out with her snake like body, the tail of it catching Dean hard in the knees.

 

He drops heavily onto the ground, sand making its way into his eyes. He spits some out of his mouth as he gets to his feet, furious.

 

The Lamia is before him, watching him with a smug look on her face.

 

“Come on, bitch!” Dean taunts. “That’s all you got?”

 

A feral snarl escapes the creature’s lips as she charges towards Dean, clawed hands bared in preparation to attack. Dean underestimates the speed of the monster and he dodges at the last minute. A yell of pain involuntarily leaves him as she manages to rake her claws across his right shoulder.

 

The hunter clutches his shoulder, lying on the ground, trying to breathe through the pain as he feels warm blood flowing from his wound. He tries to get to his feet when a wave of nausea and dizziness hit him.

 

It catches him off guard. His wound doesn’t seem to be very deep. Dean chances a glance at his wound and realizes that it isn’t very serious either. A hiss bring him back to his surroundings and he starts retreating on instinct as the Lamia flashes a nasty smile and slowly advances towards him, almost playing around.

 

As black creeps into the corners of Dean’s vision, he fears not for himself, but for the child and Sam. No matter how much he fights, he can feel himself slipping away. The last thing he sees before passing out is the Lamia with her clawed hands raised and Sam suddenly appearing in between them just as the Lamia attacks.

 

“Sam,” Dean whispers in fear as he finally slips into oblivion.

 

**~*~*~**

 

Dean screams in anguish as a white hot pain assaults his shoulder and tears him out of unconsciousness. He curls in on himself and flinches horribly when cold hands stop his movement.

 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he hears someone say. _Sam._ Despite the pain, Dean goes weak with relief, obliging to Sam’s administrations. “Shit, sorry.”

 

“Sam,” Dean croaks, eyes still shut.

 

“Right here, man. Her claws had some sort of poison. This will expel it,” Sam explains. Dean doesn’t mistake the guilt in Sam’s voice. He slowly opens his eyes and sees the flask in Sam’s hand and immediately realizes what it is. They’d found a recipe for an antidote in the Men of Letters library. It served as a universal antidote and could cure most of the poisons either by ingesting it or applying it on a wound.

 

Dean understands what Sam is about to do and nods, just ready to get it over with. He braces himself as he clutches the bedsheet tightly.

 

Sam takes a breath and slowly pours some of the solution onto Dean’s wound. The moment it touches the wound, the solution bubbles angrily and a purple-colored liquid starts oozing out of the gashes. Dean lets out a strangled yell; it feels like someone is applying a hot poker to his flesh.

 

Tears escape out of the corner of his eyes as he breathes deeply. Sam pours a little more and Dean can’t hold in the sob that breaks loose.

 

“It’s over, it’s over. You’re okay,” Sam chants, guilt and pain for his brother evident in his voice.

 

Dean takes deep breaths as Sam puts the flask to the side and works on tending and bandaging the wound. Dean keeps his eyes shut while Sam finishes stitching up the injury.

 

“Okay. I’m done,” Sam finally says.

 

Dean slowly opens his eyes and tries to sit up. He rejects Sam’s help, wanting to do it himself.

 

“You okay?” Sam asks, concerned.

 

Dean nods. “Next time, you get poisoned,” he jokes, wanting to lighten the moment. He knows that Sam would be blaming himself for what happened to Dean.

 

Sam’s lips form a thin line as he gets up from Dean’s bed where he’d been sitting beside his brother to put the first aid supplies back in his duffel.

 

“This isn’t funny, Dean. You were reckless. We’d discussed this. You were supposed to distract the Lamia while I got the kid to a safe place and then we’d take on it _together._ What part of _together_ do you not get?”

 

Dean grits his teeth. _Together?_ Was Sam being serious right now? _Together_ had been fucked up for a month. Together had been so fucking painful yet Dean didn’t know what else to do. How could Sam even think that anything was normal?

 

“Together?!” Dean exclaims in disbelief. “I fucked up our together, Sam! Or do you not remember that?! If I’d died, at least everything would have been on the same fucking page!”

 

Dean watches as Sam’s expression turns to one of horror; broken. “Y-You wanted to die?” Sam asks, voice low.

 

Dean doesn’t meet eyes with Sam. How can he expect his brother to understand? What’s he’s done, it’s not something he can take back anymore. He not only screwed up things with Sam, but Cas…

 

Dean decides he can’t be in the room anymore. Suddenly he feels suffocated. It’s like the rose printed walls are closing in. The red of the roses start to look more like blood to him and the vines seem like chains binding him from head to foot. Dean unsteadily gets to his feet. He eyes the blood stained shirt he’d been wearing on the ground at the foot of his bed. He spots his duffel near the bathroom door and shoves past Sam to pick out a new shirt from it.

 

He holds back the grunt of pain he can feel wanting to climb out of his throat as he puts it on.

 

“Dean – “

 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Sam. You know full well I’ve fucked everything up. Every goddamn thing. You have no idea how this feels, and there’s no way I can make you understand,” Dean states as he pulls out a spare jacket from his duffel.

 

He then walks to the foot of his bed, kicks the ruined shirt aside and works on putting on and tying up his shoes.

 

“Dean, I didn’t mean it like that. I stayed. I stayed because you wanted me to. And I’m trying to make this as normal as I can for you. What more can I do?” Sam pleads.

 

Dean doesn’t answer.

 

“If me being here means that you become reckless and put your life on the line, then maybe – “

 

“No,” Dean sternly says, cutting Sam off. “Don’t you even dare suggest that,” he growls, pointing a finger in warning towards Sam. “I can’t…” he trials off, breathing heavily.

 

“I need some air,” he mutters as he heads out the motel room in a hurry, slamming the door shut behind him.

 

**~*~*~**

Dean plays around with the glass of whiskey in his hand, memories of the last month assaulting him over and over again. He takes a big swig, relishing the burn of the alcohol as it makes it way down his throat. He’d hated when his father used to drink, especially on Mom’s birthday and the anniversary of her death. John would get completely wasted, and the target of his bitterness and anger on those days would usually be Dean.

 

At that age, Dean never understood why his father used to drink. But now, it seems like he does. He doesn’t care if he’s following in John’s footsteps; Dean has both admiration and frustration towards how his father brought them up. All that he knows now is that alcohol seems to numb the pain he feels, and right now, the pain is reaching its threshold.

 

Dean drains his glass and motions to the bartender for a refill. As he watches the amber liquid rising in the glass again, Dean’s thoughts wander to Castiel, and the happy memories he’d had before everything had gone to shit.

 

**THEN**

 

They’ve only been officially “together” for a little while. Dean remembers the time he finally told Sam about his relationship with Cas. Oddly, his brother had only one question for him then.

 

“Who made the first move?”

 

“What do you mean?” Dean had asked.

 

“I mean, did you tell him that you liked him or did he tell you?”

 

Dean had had a puzzled expression on his face and had pointed to himself. He’d then watched in amusement as Sam had cursed, called up Charlie to come over and then given Dean a hug and said, “I’m happy for you, I really am.”

 

Dean recalls Charlie coming over and giving him a big hug before running up to Sam and gleefully pocketing the hundred dollars Sam reluctantly hands over.

 

Dean snaps out of his thoughts as Castiel says, “Your smile is mesmerizing.”

 

Dean looks up towards Cas. He is lying down on his bed with his head on Cas’s lap while the angel has his legs stretched out in front of him.

 

Dean snorts. “Could you be any cheesier?”

 

Cas just smiles. “It might be a little cliché, but its how I feel.”

 

Dean avoids Cas’s eyes, flustered. He’s not used to compliments. He slowly looks up when Castiel clears his throat.

 

“Would you mind if I asked you something?”

 

Dean shakes his head. “Of course, not. Go ahead.”

 

“What were you smiling about?” Cas asks.

 

Dean’s heart melts seeing the curiosity and innocence on Cas’s face. Somewhere in his mind, he wishes for that to never go away. He then chuckles as he thinks of Cas’s question. “I was thinking about us. The time Charlie came over and took like a hundred bucks from Sam.”

 

Castiel chuckles as well. “Yes, that was a pleasantly peaceful day.”

 

“They’d actually kept a bet. About who would profess our love for one another first. Charlie had thought I would and well, she won,” Dean says, amused as he takes a hold of Cas’s hand and absently plays with his fingers.

 

“Well…” Cas trails off, running his free hand through Dean’s hair.

 

Dean looks up, brows furrowing. “What?” he asks.

 

“Technically,” Castiel says in a matter-of-fact tone. “You never professed your love.”

 

“What do you mean?”   
  
“You did say you wanted to be more than friends. But I was the one that said that I loved you. You never said it,” Castiel explains.

 

Dean stares at his angel. Did he never tell Cas that he loved him? He knew he liked him… but love? Dean looks some more. His eyes roam the features of Castiel’s face. His lips, his long lashes, that adorable confused look and sparkling blue eyes that he never fails to lose himself in. That’s when it hits Dean.

 

He’s in love. He’s fucking in love with Castiel.

 

“You do love me, right?” Castiel asks, hesitant.

 

Dean smiles and brings up a hand to pulls Castiel’s face towards himself. Their lips meet and for the first time in a long time, Dean knows he’s never letting this go. He’s never going to fuck this up. Castiel is everything to him, if not more. They both are slightly out of breath as they break apart.

 

Dean grins eyeing the radiant smile on Cas’s face.

 

“Yes. I love you.”

**NOW**

Sam does nothing but worry as he makes his way towards the bar near their motel. It’s been six hours since Dean left the motel. And if Sam knows his brother well (and he does) Dean’s probably gone to some bar to get drunk and drown his worries in as much whiskey as he can hold down.

 

The fact that Dean hadn’t even asked if the kid they’d gone to rescue in the first place was all right, showed how distracted and fucked up he probably felt. Sam had dropped off the kid outside the police station after making sure he was all right. The kid hadn’t caused any trouble, knowing that no one would believe the actual story, and had thanked Sam for helping him, reassuring the Winchester that he’d come up with something to tell the police. Sam had admired the bravery and composure of the child. Sam is glad they’d been able to save the youngster, but he also knows that he himself is cause of Dean’s pain right now.

 

He just doesn’t know how to fix it. How is he supposed to fix something that is permanent? He knows Dean is tearing himself up for it, and he also knows that his brother will never stop blaming himself.

 

Sam reaches the bar and pushes open the door, his eyes immediately searching for Dean.

 

He spots him at the front, hands fisted in the bartender’s shirt collar. Sam hurries towards his brother.

 

“I said, gimme a ref’ll,” Dean growls.

 

Sam gives his brother one cursory look and knows that he’s drunk. “Dean. Stop,” he says as he tries to pry off Dean’s fingers which have a surprisingly strong grip on the collar.

 

“Sammy!” Dean chants, bursting into a smile. “Join me. Le’ss get drunk a-and bitch ‘bout our screwed up lives.”

 

Sam shoots the bartender an apologetic look. “Dean, you’ve had enough. Let go of the man.”

 

He expects Dean to put up a fight and is surprised when the older hunter complies without a word. His expression is neutral as he walks past his brother and starts staggering his way to the front door.

 

“Sorry,” Sam mutters to the bartender.

 

The man waves it off. “Everyone has shitty days. He just seems broken up about something. Don’t worry, I’ve had worse patrons.”

 

Sam smiles in thanks and practically runs over to Dean who manages not to see the table in front of him and ends up face planting onto it. Sam’s worry jumps up a notch when Dean starts chuckling in earnest.

 

As they leave the bar, the chuckles border on hysterics. Sam is just about to stop them in the middle of the street and try to get his brother to calm down when Dean suddenly stops. His expression once again turns neutral and he doesn’t utter a word until they’re back at the motel.

 

Sam manages to somehow open the door with one hand as he supports most of Dean’s weight with the other. He pulls Dean in, and then supports him from behind as he follows and closes the door behind him. He helps Dean get over to the bed. As Dean sits down, Sam makes sure he won’t fall over and then heads over to turn on the lights.

 

When he looks back towards Dean, his heart breaks as he sees silent tear tracks running down his brother’s face. He wishes he could take it all away. Every single bit of pain his brother is feeling right now, he wishes he could have it instead. Dean doesn’t deserve any of this. He never did.

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean sniffs.

 

“I’m –” Sam starts to apologize but is cut off by Dean.

 

“You were right, Sammy.”

 

Sam frowns. “What do you mean?”

 

Dean lip trembles. “You said I’d had enough. B’ck at the bar. You were right. I’ve had ‘nough. I can’t do this ‘nymore. I’ve had enough of losin’ people ‘round me. Had enough of me screwin’ shit up.”

 

“Dean, don’t – “

 

“No, S’mmy. It’s all my fault. And all I do is keep dumpin’ it on you. I fucked up everythin’ between us. And Cas – “ Dean’s voice breaks.

 

“I’ve lost him, Sammy,” Dean says, fresh tears escaping his eyes. “I’ve lost him forever.”

 

Dean clutches at his hair, the anguish in his eyes making Sam want to do nothing but protect Dean from whatever was going on in his head. “I can’t do this anymore, Sam.”

 

Sam kneels in front of Dean. “Don’t. Don’t you do this to me, okay? You promised me. You promised me you wouldn’t ever think this way. And even if you did, you wanted me to pull you back. Here’s me pulling you back. **Nothing** that happened was your fault. Do you understand me?”

 

Dean stays silent. Sam sighs. He knows that Dean will deny ever having this conversation in the first place when he wakes up the next morning.

 

“Let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk in the morning,” Sam says as he gently makes Dean lie down on the bed. Dean stares at Sam while Sam removes Dean’s boots and throws a blanket over his brother.

 

“You promise?” Dean asks with such innocence that Sam wishes he could keep it that way. He misses the old days when things weren’t as supremely fucked up as they are now.

 

“Yes, I promise. Now go to sleep.”

 

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean mumbles as he closes his eyes.

 

Sam watches as Dean’s breathing soon evens out. Sam finally lets out a shaky breath, allowing himself to break a little. It’s only today that he saw how much all of this had affected Dean.

 

Sam runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. He knows he’s the reason Dean’s in this state in the first place. Sam blinks against the sudden onslaught of tears. He bites his bottom lip as he tries to compose himself.

 

“I’m sorry too, Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

**NOW**

Dean is sitting at the table in the library of the bunker when Sam walks in. He determinedly pays attention to the laptop in front of him as his brother quietly makes his way towards him and settles down at the opposite side of the table.

 

Dean remembers every minute of what had happened last night. As they’d woken up in the morning, the tension between them had been simmering just below the line. They’d left before anyone in the city could track them down.

 

As soon as they’d reached the bunker, Dean had made a beeline towards his room with his duffel, not sparing his brother another glance. It’s not like Dean wanted to ignore Sam. He just couldn’t bring himself to face his brother. Not after last night. Not after…

 

Dean’s grits his teeth as he remembers the promises he made to his brother. The promises he knows he has to keep. But _how_? How can Sam expect him to do this? Dean knows he’s being all kinds of selfish but he can’t do this anymore. He hadn’t lied about that while being drunk as fuck the night before. He just can’t do it anymore. He can’t keep losing the people he loves.

 

His mom.

 

His dad.

 

Cas…

 

Dean snaps out of his thoughts as Sam clears his throat in an attempt to get his attention. Slightly reluctant and wary about what Sam wants to talk about, Dean slowly raises his head, moving his gaze from the laptop to Sam.

 

“I know you don’t want to hear any of this right now, Dean. But this can’t go on for much longer and you know that,” Sam says.

 

“Yeah, it can. We can make it work,” Dean replies, trying not to show how hurt he feels knowing exactly what Sam is trying to imply.

 

Dean watches as Sam runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “Dean. I…I can’t do this.

 

“I can’t be something we hunt. I know you feel like crap and I know that seeing me here every day to remind you of what happened doesn’t make it any easier. I _want_ to make it easier for you, Dean. Just… please,” Sam pleads. “I know it’s not the right time to talk about this, but the right time never comes.”

 

Dean’s hands clench into fists. “So you think you leaving for good will make things easier?” he counters, angry. Angry that Sam wants to leave. Angry that he’s at fault. Angry that he can’t reverse what he’s done. Angry at himself, at this life, at his fate.

 

“I know it won’t. But you’ll get through it. You’ll heal. You’ll have Cas – “

 

“CAS IS GONE!” Dean bellows. “He fucking left, Sam! And you know why? Because I,” he points a shaking thumb towards himself, “I made him leave. I can’t hurt anyone else, Sam. I just can’t.”

 

“You think this isn’t hurting me? You don’t think I see the looks on your face when you look at me, Dean?” Sam argues, getting to his feet. “All I see is pain and guilt and hurt and the ever present knowledge that I’m the reason for it! And if you think you can’t take it, then I can’t either, Dean!”

 

“Sam – “

 

“No!” Sam yells, weeks of frustration reaching its peak point. “I can’t _hurt_ anyone else either, Dean. I don’t want to turn into something I’m not. Or do you not remember what happened to Bobby?”

 

“Bobby was different, Sam, don’t bring him into this,” Dean snaps, getting to his feet as well.

 

“How is this any different from Bobby?!”

 

Dean stays silent, his hands absently reaching up towards the amulet around his neck. He remembers the time he threw it into the trash all those years ago, never knowing that Sam had picked it up before he’d left the room. He remembers finding it in Sam’s duffel bag after…

 

Dean can’t bring himself to think about it. He stares angrily at his laptop, trying to ignore Sam’s voice. He knows his brother is doing nothing but voicing the truth he’s been too scared to face. 

 

“Dean, look at m-“

 

“ENOUGH!” he bellows, cracking. His eyes well up of their own accord as his knees go weak and he sinks to his chair, his elbows resting on the table and his face buried in his hands as he breaks down. His shoulders shake in silent sobs as Sam watches, stunned.

 

A few minutes of silence follows with Sam not knowing what to do and Dean trying to pull himself back together. He finally looks up, wiping away the tears lining his cheeks.

 

“You think I want you to suffer, Sammy?” Dean asks, voice hoarse. “You think I want you to be something we hunt? I know full well that I don’t have a choice here. As much as I want to scour every goddamn book in this place for a way to bring you back, I can’t. Because you and I both know how well that’s gone in the past. You know why I’m not spending my nights looking up solutions? Because I made you two promises.

 

“I promised you I’d let you go when the time came. That I wouldn’t look for fucked up and selfish ways to bring you back. And I’m keeping that promise. I also made you a promise before we left, for the case.”

 

Sam sucks in a sharp breath.

 

Dean takes in a shaky breath, knowing that he can’t put this off any longer. He feels the gaping hole in his chest widen as he takes off the amulet. “I… I need to let you go,” he chokes out.

 

Dean looks up to see Sam’s eyes filled with unshed tears.

 

“I know I’m only going to screw this up more by making you stay here. And I know that’s what you wanted to talk about. Letting you go. I just… I need some time. A couple hours, just… please. I can’t…” Dean trails off, biting his lip. He’s never been one to cry, but things have just been too much.

 

“Take whatever time you need,” Sam finally says. “For… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for making you do this. None of this should have happened in the first place.”

 

Dean gives a small smile. “I know. I’m sorry too. I wish I could take it all back. I want you to know that.”

 

Sam nods in understanding. Dean watches and feels his heart break as Sam’s form flickers and disappears.

 

Dean looks down at the amulet in his hands, a symbol of their relationship, a symbol of their bond, a symbol of their loyalty and care for one another, and the only thing left of his little brother.

**A MONTH AGO**

“No, no, no, no,” Dean’s voice breaks. What the fuck has he done?

 

He stares at the pool of blood in front of him and into the lifeless eyes of someone he’d give his life for. Someone he knew he couldn’t live without.

 

Dean pulls the disturbingly still body towards himself, silent tears streaming down his face as his mind keeps replaying the event that occurred just minutes ago.

 

_The rage completely fills him up, and all he sees is red. Gripping the knife in hand, Dean slashes and injures, relentless. He doesn’t inflict direct wounds. He makes his movements so that these men die the most painful death he can dish out._

_He feels elated, the Mark spurring him on. It’s like all rationality flows out the window as he viciously slices the last man’s throat and torso before plunging the knife directly into his heart. It’s like he’s a demon again._

_That’s what stops him. Dean fights the power of the Mark, desperate to not be the monster he usually hunts down. He stares in alarm at the large mass of red before him, and the bodies littering the room._

_He falls to his knees, shock making his knees weak._

_It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. This couldn’t be real. He needs this to not be real. He can’t be a monster, he just can’t._

_Somewhere in his mind, he hears a door open and a girl scream. He readies himself for another attack, the Mark controlling him more than his own will._

_He sees Sam running towards him, sees the look of concern and not-so-hidden shock on his brother’s face. He wants to drop the knife, but he can’t._

_He can only watch as Sam kneels before him and almost cradles Dean’s face with his hands. Dean’s arm seems to move of its own accord, and before Dean can stop himself, the knife plunges deep into Sam’s torso._

_Sam’s gasp of pain finally makes Dean snap out of it, but it’s too late. Sam falls back, hitting the ground with a muffled thud._

_Dean’s hands shake and his breaths quicken as he realizes what he’s done._

_“Fuck, no, no, no, shit, Sammy,” Dean stammers, moving closer to Sam, afraid to touch him. He feels like time has suddenly stopped around him. He didn’t just fucking stab his own brother. Holy mother of crap, what the fuck has he done?_

_“De’n,” Sam whispers. Dean’s heart breaks seeing the understanding in Sam’s eyes. Sam has always been an open book and one of the most selfless people Dean has known. Even when the life is draining out of him, Sam still has faith in his brother. “’t’s ‘kay,” Sam chokes._

_“Please, no. Sam, no. What have I done?” Dean begs, unshed tears obscuring his vision._

_Sam starts to close his eyes._

_“Sam, no! Don’t you dare clock out on me! I’ll find a way, please, Sam, don’t do this,” Dean pleads, his eyes brimming with tears._

_“Let me go,” Sam breathes so quietly that Dean almost misses it. Dean startles when Sam holds Dean’s forearm in a surprisingly strong grip as he struggles to breathe._

_“I can’t,” Dean says, the tears making their escape._

_“Please,” Sam mouths. A second later, his ragged breaths stop and the hand clutching Dean’s forearm drops to the blood soaked floor with a muffled thud._

_“No,” Dean whispers as he shakes his brother gently. “Sam, please, wake up,” Dean sobs._

_“SAM!” Dean bellows, anguish lacing every bit of his tone. “God, no,” Dean cries, carefully pulling out the knife from his brother’s body and throwing it as far away from himself as he can._

 

Dean hugs Sam, as he rocks back and forth, his mind taking him back to the first time he saw Sam die in Cold Oak.

 

“I didn’t mean to,” Dean whispers, as he closes his eyes against the fresh onslaught of tears.

 

**~*~*~**

The moon shines in the sky which is filled with a mesmerizing collection of twinkling stars. A chilly breeze blows over the scene. However, the peacefulness is quite contrary to the scene that plays out in front of the Seraph. The angel steps out quietly from behind the trees set towards the back of the bunker, his eyes drawing towards the man standing in the small clearing between the bunker and the trees, a burning pyre in front of him.

 

Castiel watches in anguish as the man drops to his knees, clutching at his hair, mouth open in a silent scream. Not for the first time in his life, the angel wishes he had his own grace. His temporary grace is just not strong enough to revive someone from the dead.

 

And oh, he wishes and wishes that he could revive his friend that now burns in the pyre before the broken man he so loves.

 

He slowly walks over to the man and kneels down beside him. “Dean,” he says.

 

Dean looks towards Castiel with broken, bloodshot eyes and immediately latches onto Castiel, shaking like a leaf as tears stream down his cheeks. “I killed him. I fucking killed him, Cas,” Dean sobs.

 

Castiel’s heart wrenches as he holds on tightly to Dean, resting his cheek on the hunter’s head. He whispers empty reassurances as a silent tear slips down his cheek to embed itself into Dean’s hair.

 

“It’ll be okay, Dean. It’ll be okay.”

 

And at that moment, Castiel wonders. Will it ever be okay? He may know the pain of losing a brother, but this is different. Castiel never had a bond with his own siblings like the bond between Sam and Dean.

 

He’s heard every so often that hurting one is hurting the other. He’s seen the truthfulness to this statement too, in the lengths the brothers have gone for one another.

 

And he realizes then that it’s never going to be okay.

 

As if to prove his line of thought, Dean suddenly shoves Castiel away. “How?! How the fuck is this ever gonna be okay, Cas?!” Dean yells, pain lacing every word. “I killed him. I… I fucking killed him. This is never gonna be _okay_!”

 

“Dean – “

 

“Just leave me alone,” Dean snaps as he unsteadily gets to his feet and stomps off towards the bunker.

 

Castiel stays on his knees, beside the burning pyre of his best friend, at loss about how to console Dean. He wishes he was in place of Sam. Dean may have been devastated even then, but at least he’d still have Sam.

 

Castiel knew that Dean cared about him, but Castiel also knew that Dean cared about Sam more. Sam was his family, his everything. Castiel knew that if it ever came to choosing between himself and Sam, even though it would cause pain to Dean to leave Castiel behind, he’d choose Sam.

 

The angel finally decides to give Dean his space. He’ll go and check on him later and make it up to him.

 

Dean was right.

 

It’s never going to be okay.

**NOW**

Dean slowly opens the door to his room, needing a little privacy. Sam may be a spirit and for all Dean knows, Sam could be eavesdropping on his every move. But Dean knows his brother, and alive or dead, he respects people’s boundaries. And what Dean is about to do isn’t easy on either of them.

 

The hunter sits down cross-legged on the floor to the left side of his bed in front of and facing the bedside table. He opens the drawer and pulls out a small box, which on opening reveals the few number of family photos he’d managed to save and treasure for all these years.

 

He smiles as he flips through each photograph, most of them of him and Sam at different ages. He finally stops at the one he’s looking for. His family photo. John and Mary standing side by side with John carrying Dean on his hip and Mary cradling Sam.

 

Dean runs his fingers delicately over the photo, yearning for his family. He’s lost everything. He recalls telling Sam to consider him as stone number one when Sam had gotten his soul restored by Death. But what Dean hadn’t told Sam was that it applied the other way around too.

 

Sam was his stone number one. Sam is his stone number one. Sam will always be his stone number one.

 

But even so, truth is that stone number one was gone. In reality, all that was left of Sam was the amulet. Dean had avoided talking to Castiel after he’d given Sam a hunter’s funeral. He’d spent all of his time that day in Sam’s room gathering his brother’s things to get rid of. They’d just serve as a reminder of what happened and Dean didn’t want that.

 

Dean had been clearing out Sam’s desk drawer when he’d found the amulet wedged right at the back of it. He’d stood in shock staring at it for a good fifteen minutes before hesitantly putting it on. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the familiar weight against his chest until he’d put in on.

 

Dean had then gone on to burn all of Sam’s stuff, even though it hurt, knowing as a hunter that Sam could turn up as a spirit if any part of him was left behind.

 

Somewhere in his mind, Dean had considered that idea, but he knew it would have been unfair to Sam.

 

Only it ended up happening anyway.

 

Dean sighs as he puts down the photographs and rubs at the pendant of the amulet, the string twisted around his fingers. He remembers jumping out of his skin the night after the funeral when he’d tossed and turned for the umpteenth time and seen a figure standing at the edge of his bed. At first, he’d thought that he was hallucinating, but a while later, he came to realize that the amulet was what was holding Sam back.

 

Dean remembers pleading for his brother to stay for a while, for just ‘one last case’. Only, the one last case turned into quite a few last cases when Dean couldn’t seem to let go.

 

Dean now appreciated how much Sam cared. Sam was willing to stay for Dean and the reason he wanted to leave now also, was not for himself, but for Dean. Because he wanted Dean to hurt less.

 

 _When did things get so messed up?_ Dean wonders.

 

Dean wipes away the single tear that slips out of his left eye. He shifts so that his back is leaning against the side of his bed.

 

His hands rest on his knees as he clutches his hair.

 

Not one day will pass without him wishing he’d stabbed himself instead of Sam. At least then Sam would have been alive.

 

Dean’s breathing hitches as he tries not to break down again.

 

He hurriedly composes himself when he hears a sudden knock on his door. He clears his throat. “You don’t have to knock, Sam,” Dean says, staring at the floor.

 

The door opens but when Dean doesn’t hear anyone walk in, he looks towards the doorway and feels his heart jump to his mouth.

 

He unsteadily gets to his feet, his eyes not believing the sight of the man standing right outside his room. He’s missed that tan coat, that eternally messy black hair, and those sparkling blue eyes.

 

“Hello, Dean.”


	6. Chapter 6

**THEN**

Kicking the door shut behind him, Dean never loses contact with Castiel’s lips as he cups his face. He feels Castiel’s hands tugging at his shirt, pulling open the buttons, and the hunter grins against the kiss. He starts unbuttoning Cas’s shirt and gasps when the angel’s lips move to start kissing the side of Dean’s neck.

 

Dean and Cas tug off their pieces of clothing one by one on the way to Dean’s bed, all the while maintaining contact.

 

Cas’s legs hit the back of Dean’s bed and they both fall onto it, chuckling. They move up so they’re comfortable and Dean looks down into Castiel’s eyes, seeing nothing but love reflected back in them. He smiles as he bends down to kiss his angel, his kisses soon moving towards Cas’s neck, chest, and lower.

 

The hunter enjoys the gasps and moans he manages to wring out of his Castiel. Although he’ll never admit it publicly, Dean had been jealous when he’d heard of the angel’s sexual venture as a human with a woman who’d turned out to be a reaper. But tonight, Dean makes sure that Castiel knows who he belongs to. 

 

Soon after they’re both out of breath, tired and sweaty but completely content. Dean counts this night as one of the best nights he’s had.

 

Once again, Dean would never admit it, but he cuddles with Castiel under the blankets, his hands wrapped around Cas’s waist, the other man’s chin on Dean’s head, his hands playing absently with the hunter’s hair.

 

“Hey, Cas?”

 

“Yes, Dean?”

 

“Don’t ever leave me,” Dean says, quiet.

 

Castiel frowns. “What’s wrong? Why would you think I would leave you?”

 

“I… it’s nothing.”

 

“You can tell me, Dean,” Castiel says, gentle.

 

Dean sighs. “Everyone I’ve had feelings for, they’ve either ended up dead, or I’ve screwed it up because of all kinds of reasons. I… I don’t want to screw this up.”

 

 

Castiel lifts up Dean’s chin and kisses him on the lips. After he breaks apart, he smiles a genuine smile. “I won’t ever leave you. I promise.”

 

**NOW**

 

Dean realizes that Cas had kept his promise. Castiel had done everything he could to convince Dean that he was ready to stay, no matter the consequences. It was Dean who had ruined everything. First, he’d killed Sam and then he’d driven Cas out.

 

Dean doesn’t respond at first; all he can do is stare at his doorway. Castiel doesn’t need to be here, and yet there he is.

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean finally greets, finding that it’s easier to talk to Cas’s feet than his face. That way he wouldn’t need to see the disappointment and hate in Castiel’s eyes because Dean knows that after all he’s done, the angel surely must hate him.

 

Just a few hours after Sam’s funeral and Dean burning Sam’s things, the hunter had been sitting in the library of the bunker, drinking away his pain. He remembers with vivid clarity everything he’d said to Cas. He’d never meant a word of it. But he feared that if he carried on with Cas, the only thing that could happen with the Mark still being on his arm was him ending up injuring his lover somehow.

 

**THEN**

 

Dean takes a long swig from the bottle, cherishing the burn of the alcohol it makes its way down his throat. If Sam were here, he’d probably tell Dean off for drinking. _But Sam? He isn’t here anymore. So why the fuck not?_ Dean thinks as he chuckles humorlessly to himself, taking another swig of whiskey.

 

For the first time in his life though, Dean doesn’t feel numb. Alcohol usually numbs the pain. But today, the feeling of half of himself being torn and broken never leaves. There’s this hole in his chest that even the amulet that now rests around his neck, can’t fill. Dean refuses to cry as he staggers his way towards the kitchen to bring out a third bottle.

 

As he stumbles his way back to the bunker’s main room, he sees Castiel enter. Ignoring his presence, Dean settles back into his designated seat and opens up the bottle, taking a long sip and loudly gulping it down.

 

Dean expects Cas to sigh, maybe try talking him out of drinking and then leave. What Dean doesn’t expect is Cas striding up to him, yanking the bottle from his hands and glaring at him.

 

“Hey!” Dean indignantly yells, reaching out for the bottle which Castiel pulls out of his reach.

 

“I know you’re hurting, Dean, but this is no way to deal with grief,” Cas says while keeping the bottle out of Dean’s reach.

 

Dean returns the glare as he gets to his feet, holding the table for support. “I can do what’vr the fuck I want. Gimme the bottle, Cas,” Dean sneers.

 

“No, Dean. Enough is enough. I can’t see you like this,” Cas says, sighing. “Do you know how much I wish I could bring Sam back for you? But I can’t. So the least I can do is help you deal with this.”

 

Dean hesitates for a second before shrugging off the hand Cas lays on the side of Dean’s neck. Dean ignores the slightly hurt expression on Cas’s face. Cas has no idea what this feels like. He doesn’t get to decide how Dean should deal with it.

 

“I don’t need help dealin’ with anythin’, Cas,” Dean snaps, trying to reach for the bottle. His movements are uncoordinated and Castiel easily keeps it just out of reach.

 

“Damn it, Cas, give me the fuckin’ bottle. I can deal with this in my own way!”

 

“You don’t have to,” Castiel says, quietly.

 

Dean stops trying to struggle against Cas for the whiskey. “What?”

 

“Sam was my friend too, Dean. And I’d rather we deal with this together than doing something stupid that Sam would probably chide us for.”

 

Dean frowns, not wanting to discuss anything about Sam. Just the name of his brother brings up all the guilt and anguish and he just wants to drink and pass out. That’s what he needs and Castiel won’t give it to him. “What’s that s’pposed to mean?” Dean asks.

 

“Sam wouldn’t want you to –“

 

“SAM IS DEAD!” Dean yells angrily. He doesn’t realize he’s lifted his hand until it makes contact with Castiel’s jaw and the angel stumbles back.

 

The anger suddenly drains out of Dean as he stares in shock at what he just did. He stares at his shaking hands and stumbles back when Cas tries to come near him.

 

“N-no,” Dean stammers. “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

 

Dean didn’t mean to do anything. But it kept happening. First Sam and now Cas. Dean’s eyes well up with tears as his hands clutch at his hair. He just punched Cas. What’s to say he won’t be lifting an angel blade to him soon?

 

“Dean, it’s okay, it’s –“

 

“No,” Dean says, his own voice sounding alien to him. “It’s not. I can’t do this. I can’t hurt you. I…” Dean trails off.

 

“Dean,” Cas calls out in a calm voice.

 

Dean shakes his head in denial, retreating back a few steps as Castiel tries to approach him. “Don’t. Don’t come near me. I can’t… Cas, you have to leave. I can’t do this.”

 

Castiel stops. “What?” he asks, his voice sounding hollow.

 

Dean knows he’s hurting Castiel even more. But he can’t risk himself losing control again. “I… I need you to leave,” Dean says, his voice steadier than he thought it would be. “Please, Cas. Just leave. I can’t do this anymore.”

 

“What do you mean, Dean?”

 

Dean takes a deep breath. “We can’t be a thing anymore,” Dean says, each word searing into the already deepened hole in his chest. “I can’t do this anymore.”

 

Dean watches at Castiel’s face resembles the broken expression he’d worn when Dean had been forced to throw Cas out of the bunker thanks to Gadreel. Dean feels yet another part of himself chip away and the hole widen even more. He’s hurting every goddamn person he cares about.

 

Castiel stares for a few seconds before putting out his hands in front of him and a comforting gesture. “Dean, you’re not thinking straight. We can figure this out. I –“

 

“No, Cas. I need you to leave,” Dean says, trying to keep his tone of voice even. He can feel himself reaching a breaking point. He needs Castiel to leave before he changes his mind altogether.

 

“Dean – “

 

“I can’t hurt any more people I care about, Cas! You don’t have any guarantee that I won’t hurt you soon enough! Cas, if you care ‘bout me, please. Just leave. Leave me be. Just please, leave,” Dean finally snaps, his voice breaking at the end.

 

They both stand in silence. Dean feels yet another part of him shatter as Castiel’s face falls and Dean can practically feel the pain he sees in Castiel’s eyes.

 

“Will my leaving make this better to deal with?” Cas finally asks.

 

Dean steels himself as he flat out lies, “Yes.”

 

Castiel then nods. “Okay, Dean.”

 

And saying so, Castiel heads up towards the entrance of the bunker. Dean watches as the angel climbs up the steps. Before Castiel opens the door, he gives Dean an understanding look. Dean blinks against the tears that threaten to fall. He is not going to show weakness.

 

The door closes shut behind Castiel and Dean drops to his knees in the middle of the war room, letting the tears finally spill out. He doesn’t care that he’s showing weakness anymore. There’s no one there to see it.

 

 

**NOW**

Castiel clears his throat and Dean snaps out of his reverie. He finally meets Cas’s eyes and is surprised to see nothing but understanding and love in them. Dean realizes that he’s completely misread his angel.

 

It’s then that Dean also comprehends that he had never called Cas over. So how is he here?

 

As if Castiel reads Dean’s mind, he says, “You should imagine my surprise when I got a call from Sam. For a second, I’d thought that you’d done something, well, stupid to bring him back.”

 

Despite himself, Dean smiles. He’s missed this so much. Castiel’s voice, the calming way he speaks, just, everything. “You don’t know how much I wish I _did_ do something stupid,” Dean says as he sits down on his bed.

 

Castiel hesitates a little before slowly walking over and sitting next to Dean.

 

“Sam told me everything. He’s the one that called me over, in case you were wondering.”

 

Dean smiles wryly. “Yeah, I kinda figured.”

 

Once again, Dean sees Castiel hesitate before making a move and holding one of the hunter’s rough, calloused hands. Dean’s heart breaks slightly, seeing the angel calculate every move before making it. He’d never wanted it this way.

 

“I think what you’re about to do shows that you have unimaginable strength. Letting go is not an easy task,” Cas claims.

 

“I don’t know if I can,” Dean admits as he plays with the amulet in his hand. “I’d have to let go of this,” he says, holding it out to Castiel.

 

“I remember that. I didn’t recall you wearing it after I gave it back to you, though.”

 

Dean purses his lips. “That’s ‘cause I’d thrown it away. I just didn’t know what was going on and I’d blamed Sam for a lot of things back then. I’d thrown it out for a very stupid reason and I just never realized that Sam had picked it up out of the trash.”

 

“Where did you find it?” Castiel asks.

 

“In Sam’s study drawer when I was clearing his stuff out. I was wearing it when I’d… I’d asked you to leave,” Dean explains, guilt creeping in. “Hey, Cas, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw you out. I just – “

 

Dean stops when Castiel squeezes Dean’s hand. “You don’t have to apologize. I understand why you did it.”

 

A sudden burst of anger fills up in Dean. Why is no one blaming him for everything? He’s screwed everything up. He gets to his feet, glaring at his angel. “Why are you being so goddamn empathetic?! I fucked up everything, Cas! Why aren’t you yelling at me?! Why are you and Sam being so goddamn considerate when all I’ve ever done is hurt you both?!”

 

Castiel gets to his feet as well. Dean watches as Cas frowns, as though wondering how to phrase something. After a few seconds, he says, “You’re talking to a person that’s done nothing but screw up, Dean. Of course I empathize. And Sam? Well, he knows you never meant to kill him. You wouldn’t intentionally ever kill anyone you cared about, and we both know that. Stop blaming yourself, Dean. It was a mistake.”

 

Dean’s shoulders slump. “But it’s a mistake I can’t ever take back.”

 

Castiel has no answer to that. He waits a few seconds before wrapping his arms around Dean, hugging him. Dean allows himself to break again as he lays his head on Castiel’s shoulder, hot tears silently slipping down his cheeks and embedding itself onto the tan fabric. He clutches desperately at Castiel’s trenchcoat as he takes deep breaths.

 

“How do I do this, Cas?” he asks in a shattered voice.

 

Cas lets go of Dean and looks him directly in the eyes. “Just let go. Stop holding onto it. I’ll be right here, when – _if_ you need me.”

 

Dean doesn’t miss how Castiel changes his sentence midway. He immediately pulls Cas into a kiss. Castiel is taken aback before he responds. A few seconds later, they’re slightly out of breath as Dean breaks away the kiss, feeling nothing but love for his angel.

 

“I fucked up, Cas. And I know I said a lot of crappy things to you. But I’ll always need you.”

 

Castiel smiles as he kisses Dean again. “I’ll get you through this, I promise.”

 

Dean nods, not doubting Castiel for one second. He knows that Cas would do anything for him, and he knows it goes the other way too.

 

Dean takes a deep breath. “Come on. Sam must be waiting.”

 

**~*~*~**

It feels like déjà vu when Dean and Castiel step outside to the backyard of their bunker where they’d given Sam a funeral. Dean hadn’t broken until everyone had left. Dean shudders as he stares at the spot where he himself had laid Sam on the pyre.

 

He vaguely remembers Jody being there, hugging him and offering empty words of comfort. He’d appreciated the gesture even though he’d felt completely void of life that day.

 

As Dean walks towards the spot, he realizes with a pang that Charlie doesn’t know. That she’s in Oz. He can’t imagine telling her. He rubs a hand over his face. People keep telling him not to blame himself. But his own hands had plunged a knife into his own brother. A brother he’d always swore to protect.

 

_Take care of Sammy._

The one thing that John had drilled into him, and the one thing that Dean always seemed to screw up. Only this time, he couldn’t fix it.

 

He jumps when Sam materializes next to him and lays a cold hand on Dean’s shoulder.

 

Cold hands. Something Dean never got used to after Sam had first made his appearance as spirit. Dean remembers the occasional flickering lights which he’d got accustomed to after a few days.

 

Dean recalls the time when he’d begged Sam to stay for one more case.

 

Only that one more case had turned into quite a few. And each time, Sam had tried everything to make things seem normal for Dean even though he had every right to ask Dean to let him go. The times he’d managed to bring up the topic, Dean had always shut him out. Soon enough, Sam had stopped asking. He’d just gone along with it.

 

Sam pretended to sleep when Dean was tired and they’d be crashing in motels, he’d go on the usual morning runs and get breakfast for Dean. He’d do his research, stay out of anything that could hurt him as a ghost just so things would seem normal.

 

Only they never were.

 

Dean doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at Sam, a sense of longing in him. It’s going to be quite a while before he sees him again.

 

He looks towards Castiel and realizes that the angel has set up a small burning area on the ground a few feet away from them to melt the metal.

 

Dean had put on the amulet as he’d walked hand in hand with Cas to the back yard.

 

He and Sam silently walk towards Castiel, and the older Winchester takes in a shaky breath.

 

“So, this is goodbye then?” Dean asks, smiling sadly.

 

“You know I wish I could stay, right?”

 

Dean huffs as he smiles, staring at his feet, nodding. “And I know it’s too risky. For both of us.”

 

Sam nods this time, smiling in sorrow as well.

 

“Well,” Dean says as he takes off the amulet. He weighs it in his hand. He’d never truly understood the significance properly until he’d found it in Sam’s desk drawer. For Sam, it had been a symbol of their relationship. One that had broken the minute Dean had dumped the amulet into the trash.

 

“I’ll see you soon, then,” Dean says, his voice breaking. Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t cry anymore. He just feels a sudden weight of grief on his shoulders, which he knows is going to be there until it’s his time.

 

“I’d prefer it to be later than sooner,” Sam remarks.

 

Dean laughs. “Well, you know me,” he says.

 

Sam nods. “Yes, I do. Which also means I’ll kick your ass if it’s sooner rather than later.”

 

Dean holds his hands up in mock surrender before his mood goes grim again. He’s going to miss this. The casual banter they have. He’s going to miss seeing Sam’s face and that floppy hair every morning. He’s going to miss Sam’s excited face when he’s found something during his research. He’s going to miss seeing Sam geek out over the Men of Letters records.

 

He’s going to miss his brother.

 

Sam pulls Dean into a hug and Dean holds him tight, closing his eyes and cherishing every minute of this. It’s going to be a long while before he can get to hug his brother again.

 

The hug doesn’t feel like Sam to Dean though. Sam’s too cold. Dean fully understands then, why doing this is a necessity. But he cherishes the hug as he embraces his brother back, never wanting to forget this moment, no matter how screwed up it may seem.

 

Sam breaks apart and Dean feels the hole in his chest widen even more seeing the tears in Sam’s eyes.

 

“I’m so sorry, Sammy,” Dean pleads.

 

Sam shakes his head. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault, man. I’ll... I’ll miss you.”

 

Dean licks his lips as he struggles to keep his composure. “Me too.”

 

Sam then turns to Castiel. “Thanks for everything, Cas. You take care of my brother, you hear?”

 

Castiel nods, unshed tears in his eyes. “I promise I will.”

 

Dean purses his lips as he dangles the amulet over the fire pit. His mind is brought back to him dangling it over the dustbin in that no name motel room. Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting go of the amulet.

 

A few seconds pass and then a bright light is emitted from Sam’s figure. Dean shields his eyes as it flashes bright for a few more seconds before dying out.

 

Sam’s gone.

 

He’s finally gone.

 

Dean collapses to his knees as he stares at the sky, which mimics the night of Sam’s funeral. It seems ironic to him. He feels Castiel’s hands on his shoulder.

 

“Could you give me a minute?” Dean asks, his voice surprisingly steady.

 

Castiel nods and kisses Dean’s temple before heading into the bunker.

 

Dean feels peaceful as he stares at the sky. He’s broken, but peaceful. Before Sam had left, Dean had seen the last look on his brother’s face.

 

He’d looked happy. He’d looked relieved. He’d looked ready and content.

 

Dean imprints that image into his memory. This is the Sam he wants to remember until it’s his time to die.

 

He looks back towards the bunker where he knows Cas is waiting.

 

He knows it’s never going to be okay, but he’s accepted it. Sometimes it’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to show weakness. It’s okay to feel pain and break down. Because that’s what makes you stronger in the end.

 

Dean gets to his feet and starts walking towards the bunker.

 

Everything he cares about is waiting in there. And damn him if he’s going to end up screwing that up too.

 

“I’ll see you later, Sammy,” Dean whispers to himself as he walks into the library and sees Castiel seated at the nearest chair.

 

Dean walks over and sits opposite the angel.

 

“You okay?” Castiel asks, concerned.

 

Dean thinks for a minute before answering, “Not really. But I will be.”


	7. Epilogue

_Dean,_

_I only ask for one thing. I know I’m not there anymore, and that you’re probably going to want to shut everybody out. I just want you not to let go of Castiel. I’ve seen how you’ve looked at him, how happy you’ve been with him. Don’t screw it up._

_Also, if you ever have Charlie or Jody or Claire over, I’d appreciate that you and Castiel keep the noise to a minimum. Trust me, I could hear you two all the way to my room. It’s traumatizing._

_Don’t blame yourself. What happened wasn’t your fault. I know that you and Cas will manage to find a solution for the Mark somehow._

_I know you’re probably going to think I’ve grown lady parts by now but whatever. Just wanted to say thank you for being my brother._

_Sam._

Dean sits cross legged on the floor near his dresser the morning after Sam is gone. He re-reads the letter he’s found in his bedside drawer.

 

It’s so much like Sam to have left a memento of sorts for Dean. Dean carefully folds the letter and puts it back in its place.

 

“I miss you already, Sasquatch,” Dean mutters to the empty room.

 

**~*~*~**

 

Gasping, Dean clutches at his torso. Alarming amounts of red slipping past his fingers and falling in fast drops onto the floor.

 

“Cas,” Dean whispers as he falls to his knees, his breathing shallow and rapid.

 

As if the angel hears him, Dean looks up to see Castiel running towards him.

 

“No, no, no!” Castiel yells. “Dean, don’t you do this.”

 

Dean doesn’t realize he’s leaning on Castiel until the angel lays him out on the floor, resting Dean’s head on his lap.

 

Dean knows he’s dying. He also knows he’s not coming back as a demon. They’d found a spell in one of the ancient artifacts in the Men of Letters archive. Dean wasn’t surprised that Sam hadn’t been able to find anything. It had been hidden behind a wall in the bunker. There had been no record of the artifact. Dean had taken to trying to find out the secrets of the bunker, something Sam had loved to do and while exploring. Dean had come upon a section of wall that had sounded hollow when he’d accidently tripped and hit his shoulder against it.

 

With the help of Castiel, they’d then demolished the wall to find a box sitting on a pedestal of sorts. The box had contained a book. After scouring the Men of Letters library for a way to translate the book (it was ancient Enochian that even Castiel had trouble deciphering) and not coming up with anything, they’d taken a risky step and brought Metatron into it.

 

Dean recalls the pain he’d felt as the Mark had left him to be the most physical pain he’d ever felt. So being stabbed in the torso didn’t really count as anything at the moment.

 

In fact, to Dean it seemed almost ironic that he was dying just the way his brother had.

 

Dean’s breathing hitches as he struggles for air. He smiles up at Castiel, feeling peaceful. He knows it’s his time.

 

It’s been five years since he let Sam go. There were times where he’d been reckless. Days where all he’d wanted to do was put a bullet in his mouth. But Castiel had always been there during those times. He’d kept his promise to Sam. He’d taken care of Dean.

 

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice breaks into a sob.

 

“Don’ cry, Cas. You can visit me up there… soon,” Dean gasps. “I’m going to see Sammy again.”

 

Castiel smiles through tears as he gently kisses Dean.

 

“I tried. I tried not to… let the… shifter get me… I’m sorry. I killed him but he…” Dean struggles.

 

“It’s okay, Dean. If you’re going to be at peace, that’s all I want.”

 

Dean feels himself slipping away and he holds tightly onto Castiel’s hand.

 

“I love you,” he breathes as he finally lets the blackness take him over.

 

**~*~*~**

The sun shines pleasantly over the field as a gentle breeze blows through the tall grass. Dean gets to his feet, dusting himself off. He looks at his torso and finds not one scar. So he’s definitely dead. He feels a pang of guilt knowing he’s left Castiel behind, but it soon fades as he knows that the angel will find him.

 

He looks around and is almost overwhelmed knowing that he’s most definitely in heaven. He was almost sure he deserved the deepest, darkest pits of hell for all the crap he’s done.

 

Dean turns around, looking across the field he seems to be in. He spots a dark figure in the far distance. Curiosity taking over, he starts jogging over to it. Soon enough he realizes that the silhouette is his baby.

 

And on top of the hood of the Impala sits none other than Sam.

 

 

Dean breaks into a run as he makes his way towards his brother, feeling a sudden yearning to touch and make sure that his brother is real and all right.

 

Sam smiles radiantly as he slides off the hood. He immediately embraces Dean as the older hunter practically slams into him.

 

“Hey, Dean,” Sam chuckles as he holds onto his brother.

 

Dean finally feels the hole in his chest close up. His other half is right in front of him, safe and happy.

 

“Hey, Sam,” Dean finally says after he’s done making sure that Sam is okay. “So,” he remarks as he looks around. “This is Heaven?”

 

Sam nods. “A part of it, anyway.”

 

Both stand in comfortable silence, drinking in each other’s appearance. They’ve both been through Hell, in some ways quite literally and it feels almost surreal to be at peace.

 

“How’s Cas?” Sam asks.

 

Dean’s smile falls. “Probably doing everything to give me a hunter’s funeral. We were hunting a clan of shifters. Didn’t really go as planned. Got stabbed in the chest.”

 

“Like me,” Sam jokes.

 

Dean nods. “I guess,” he replies, worrying slightly about his angel.

 

“He’ll be okay, Dean. He has access to heaven. He’ll come see you when he can.”

 

Dean nods, feeling slightly better.

 

“So it’s true,” Dean states after a few seconds.

 

Sam frowns, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

 

“We do share a heaven.”

 

Sam smiles. “Yeah, we do.”

 

Dean runs a hand over his car. “I’m glad Baby made it here too,” Dean jokes as he gets into the car.

 

Sam laughs. “Do you two need a room?” he asks as he stands outside the passenger door. Dean ignores the snarky remark as he starts up his car, grinning when he feels the familiar rumble under him.

 

“You know what? Let me drive. I think there’s a few people who’d like to see you,” Sam says.

 

Dean frowns but obliges, knowing there’s no harm in doing so. He swaps places with Sam and stares out the window as Sam drives towards the edge of the field and follows a dirt road. Dean doesn’t know how long it’s been since Sam started driving, but soon enough he sees a house looming in the distance. A house he immediately recognizes.

 

It’s where he’d spent the first four years of his life, until the Yellow-Eyed Demon’s curse had changed all of the Winchesters’ lives forever.

 

“Some Heavens are connected to one another, especially among families,” Sam says. “Took me a while to figure it out and find them. But I did.”

 

Dean is almost infuriated at the mystery that Sam maintains but he thinks he has a feeling of who he’s going to find in there.

 

Sam parks the car near the front porch and hops out. Dean hesitates for a few seconds before getting out himself. He watches as the door opens and a blonde woman wearing light blue jeans and a white top steps out, along with a man wearing a plaid shirt and dark jeans with a dark five ‘o’ clock shadow on his face.

 

“Mom,” Dean breathes as he runs up the porch steps and hugs his mother.

 

“Hey, Dean-o,” his mother greets.

 

His father clears his throat after a few seconds and Dean chuckles as he lets go of his mother. He then hugs his father. He can’t keep the smile off his face.

 

“You’ve grown up so much,” Mary says, eyes glistening with emotion.

 

Dean smiles. “And you’re still the same.”

 

He then looks towards Sam who’s watching with a look of contentment on his face.

 

This is what he’d always dreamed of. His family, together, happy and at ease. Maybe not in the way it is now, but it’s more than Dean can ask for.

 

Knowing he has a lot to catch up on, he heads in with his family, for once sure that nothing bad is ever going to happen anymore.

 

And if anything ever does, they can deal with it together, just like they always have.

 

 

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, if you stuck around this far. :) 
> 
> Both me and kuwlshadow worked insanely hard on this fic so feedback is greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :) 
> 
> **Side Note**
> 
> I advise you to go check out [ this ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4368986/chapters/9914651) fic by [ Winchesterpooja ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chronic_potterphile) and [ this ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4121737) fic by [ iamremy ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy). 
> 
> Both these girls mean the absolute world to me and they have worked just as hard on these fics. If you want, do give it a go. I promise you will not be disappointed. :)


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